Upon Reflection
by prhood
Summary: Elizabeth is slightly more perspicuous and thoughtful, and does not fall for Wickham's story, leading to an earlier resolution to a attachment to Darcy. Mrs. Gardiner also plays an expanded role.
1. Chapter 1

Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast, and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close his large book, and go.

Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his rights as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

Having now a good house and very sufficient income, he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends — of atonement — for inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.

His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority; and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour's tête-à-tête with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes that a mistress for it might be found at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. - "As to her younger daughters she could not take upon her to say - she could not positively answer - but she did not know of any prepossession; - her eldest daughter, she must just mention - she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged."

Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth - and it was soon done - done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course. Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.

In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them. But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say, had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming.

His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty - a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation - a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat - a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? - It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend. Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they would come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips' throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation.

Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces, and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop boy in the street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologizing for his intrusion without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put an end to by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in the —shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed the windows now except a few of the officers, who in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid, disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.

As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister. Mr. Collins, on his return, highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness. He protested that except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but had even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. Something he supposed might be attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.

As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house.

When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor, when she had listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper's room.

In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode and the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last however. The gentlemen did approach; and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the —shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.

Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.

With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed likely to sink into insignificance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity of obliging her in return, by sitting down to whist. "I know little of the game, at present," said he, "but I shall be glad to improve myself, for in my situation of life - " Mrs. Philips was very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.

Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely for she was a most determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes, to have attention for anyone in particular. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in an hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.

"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."

"Yes," replied Wickham;—"his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself - for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."

Elizabeth could not but look surprised.

"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. - Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth warmly,—"I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable."

"I have no right to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and to well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish - and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. - Here you are in your own family."

"Upon my word I say no more here than I might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone."

"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short interruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen."

"I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man."

Wickham only shook his head. "I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether he is likely to be in this country much longer."

"I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the —shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood."

"Oh! no—it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim to all the world; a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father."

Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented farther inquiry. Nevertheless she could not help but respect his integrity and said as much. "Such feelings are everything honourable, sir. I respect you for them."

That this appeared to disconcert him slightly, she noticed and Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry. "It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added, "which was my chief inducement to enter the —shire. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me farther by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession - I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."

"Indeed!" Elizabeth could not help a small feeling of amazement and displeasure. After expressing that he could not speak of those matters which were private to himself and Mr. Darcy, the gentleman was doing exactly that. What of his wish to forgive Mr. Darcy? It was rather disconcerting indeed. Her voice, she was pleased to note, only expressed her surprise, not her displeasure and Mr. Wickham appeared to take that as permission to continue.

"Yes - the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."

It struck Elizabeth that Mr. Wickham had a story he wished to tell – why he would do so with her, she could not understand – and it seemed that only an outright dismissal would prevent him from doing so. Elizabeth suddenly found herself curious as to his story and motives and, as artlessly as she could, encouraged his efforts.

"Good heavens!" she cried; "but how could that be? - How could his will be disregarded? - Why did not you seek legal redress?"

"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it—or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short anything or nothing. Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."

'Extravagance! Imprudence! I wonder what this entails?' thought Elizabeth, 'there must be more than a warm temper involved.'

"This is quite shocking! - He deserves to be publicly disgraced." It seemed to Elizabeth that he needed less and less encouragement as the tale unfolded. A careful glance at his countenance suggested he was confident that she was accepting of his story.

"Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."

Such feelings and the handsomeness of his countenance as he expressed them would, under other circumstances, have engendered a warm regard for Mr. Wickham; but the incongruity between his last avowal and his previous statements struck Elizabeth forcibly and she found herself at an even greater loss than before. He had averred a willingness to accept anything rather than disgrace his godfather's memory and just now stated that he would not expose the son due to his respect for the father. Yet had he not already done so with her? What was he about and what was she to make of it all? She had unknowingly been silent for several minutes, lost in thought, and Mr. Wickham, puzzled at her sudden silence, questioned her as to its cause.

"I do apologize - I was just considering what you have told me about Mr. Darcy. But what," said she , "can have been his motive? - what can have induced him to behave so cruelly?" Elizabeth found herself now wishing to hear more as to ascertain what else Mr. Wickham might disclose. That he was not being totally forthright she now felt certain but why he would favour her with his tale of woe she could not perceive and could not inquire of directly..

"A thorough, determined dislike of me - a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me, irritated him I believe very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood - the sort of preference which was often given me."

Elizabeth knew that she had too little knowledge of Mr. Darcy's character to determine the justice of such a reason and decided to temporize as best she could. A desire to terminate the discussion warred with a predilection to encourage Mr. Wickham to expose all such details as he was inclined to do. To do so she knew she would have to continue to feign belief – her distaste for Mr. Darcy she had no problem in exposing, little though she might credit Mr. Wickham's tale.

"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this - though I have never liked him, I had not thought so very ill of him - I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such injustice as this!"

After a few minutes reflection, however, she continued, "I do remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful."

"I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham, " I can hardly be just to him."

Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To treat in such a manner, the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father! She added, "And one, too, who had probably been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!"

She wondered if she was appearing too gullible but apparently not and was rewarded as Mr. Wickham responded. "We were born in the same parish, within the same park, the greatest part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit to - but he gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged. himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendence, and when immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection to myself."

"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! - I wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! - If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest, - for dishonesty I must call it." In fact, Elizabeth could not believe Mr. Darcy to act in such a manner. Nothing that she had observed indicated as much and could he have gained and retained the friendship of a man such as Mr. Bingley if his character would admit of such dishonesty? No, this could not be true but Mr. Wickham was not done.

"It is wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me, there were stronger impulses even than pride."

Elizabeth could not but remember Mr. Darcy's words about pride being under good regulation and while she might dispute his interpretation and application of it, she could not see him allowing his pride to lead him to commit such a patently dishonest and dishonourable action. If anything, it would not allow him to do so.

After several moments she prompted, "Can such pride as this, have ever done him good?"

"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride, for he is very proud of what his father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."

Elizabeth thought that if it was his pride that caused him to act in such a gentlemanly manner, then it was indeed under good regulation. The man who behaved so considerately and honourably with others could hardly, she thought, behave so poorly to Mr. Wickham. She had seen herself some small signs of his devotion to his sister and a question struck her.

"What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy,?"

He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother - very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education."

After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying, "I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? - Do you know Mr. Bingley?"

"Not at all."

"He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man. He wo….cannot know what Mr. Darcy is." Elizabeth caught herself in time from expressing an opinion that Mr. Bingley would not associate with Mr. Darcy if the latter's character was so bad.

"Probably not;—but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversable companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich, he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable, - allowing something for fortune and figure."

Of this Elizabeth could not disagree. It certainly conformed to her opinion of Mr. Darcy and his behaviour while in Hertfordshire could not give a lie to the claim. The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips.—The usual inquiries as to his success were made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she would not make herself uneasy.

"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down to a card table, they must take their chance of these things, and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters."

Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation were very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long."

"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy."

"No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday."

"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates."

This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already self-destined to another.

"Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman."

"I believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham; "I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an understanding of the first class."

Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it – little though she could be sure that Mr. Darcy was so blind as to the understanding of his connections. He, after all appeared to know quite well the limitations of Miss Bingley's understanding. Mr. Wickham appeared disposed to talk of other matters and they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper put an end to cards; and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions. Elizabeth was not sorry to release him to their attentions. She had much to ponder and realized that doing so must await her return to Longbourn and the solitude of her room.

There could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips's supper party, but Mr. Wickham's manners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won, and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House of something more. It now first struck her that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage was exceedingly agreeable to her. Elizabeth, however, did not choose to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a pitiable state at this time, for from the day of the invitation to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after; the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Nothing less than a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia.

Even Elizabeth might have found some trial of her patience in weather if it had not provided the opportunity to consider carefully all that Mr. Wickham had revealed. After much thought she had come to several conclusions: that those issues which lay between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham were fully known to only them; that Mr. Wickham's story might have some truth but how much and in what particulars she could not say – that he was duplicitous in relating it to her, she was quite certain; and finally, that Mr. Darcy's character – although not one she admired – was not as black as Mr. Wickham had painted it. His reasons for prevailing upon her for the story she could not be certain of but it seemed to her that her initial expression of a dislike of Mr. Darcy had prompted it; but why he would do so remained unclear to her.

Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a doubt of his being present had occurred to her. He had, when she remembered the brief exchange with Mr. Darcy, appeared to be have shown a touch of fear and if his story was malicious, she could well understand a reluctance to put himself in Mr. Darcy's way – particularly since that gentleman had seem quit angry and not at all afraid. The absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, "I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here."

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth, and she felt pleased that her conjectures had proven accurate and could not help but say, "This comes as no surprise to me." It appeared that Mr. Denny believed her to be in agreement with him and she was not inclined to correct his mistake.

Her satisfaction with the absence of Mr. Wickham was offset in equal measure by the presence of Mr. Darcy and she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill humour, which she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.

But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and she would not allow her ire with Mr. Darcy to dwell long on her spirits; and having told all her grief to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy. She danced next with an officer, but could not avoid his talking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances were over she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her.

"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."

"Heaven forbid! - That would be the greatest misfortune of all! - To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! - Do not wish me such an evil."

When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow herself to appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of such consequence. Elizabeth made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with: "It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

"Very well. - That reply will do for the present. - Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. - But now we may be silent."

"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?"

"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."

"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"

"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. - We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb."

"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine I cannot pretend to say. – You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."

"I must not decide on my own performance."

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends - whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"He certainly appears to have lost your friendship," replied Elizabeth with a slight smile, "and, if one is to believe him, in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."

Darcy made no answer and, after a brief considering glance at her, seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley), shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: - but let me not interrupt you, Sir. - You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."

The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, "Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."

"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. - We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."

"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.

"Books - Oh! no. - I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."

"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject.—We may compare our different opinions."

"No - I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."

"The present always occupies you in such scenes - does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.

"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."

"I am," said he, with a firm voice.

"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."

"May I ask to what these questions tend?"

"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."

"And what is your success?"

She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you - and from sources that I cannot trust - as puzzle me exceedingly."

"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary greatly with respect to me. I am pleased that you have recognized the … untrustworthiness of some sources and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment. Such stories that have been vouchsafed to you should not be discussed in a setting such as this."

"True, true. And since you will probably be so little in this neighbourhood in the future, it must matter little to you how your name and reputation are slandered. And if it matters little to you, why should I be concerned. I will think on it no more."

"Would your neighbours credit such stories?" he asked gravely – a tinge of surprise in his voice.

"I have perhaps been in your company more than most and I was almost persuaded to believe Mr. Wickham. I have no doubt, given the opinions that you and my neighbours have of the other, that Mr. Wickham's tale will find fertile soil."

Mr. Darcy's surprise was complete and his haughty manner returned. Elizabeth could not be satisfied to leave matters thus. "You mentioned, sir, that Mr. Wickham's character is such as to lose friends. Are his actions such as to cause harm to others here?"

Mr. Darcy appeared to be first surprised and thoughtful at her question and was silent for several minutes until the dance brought them together once again. "It is possible." He ventured.

Elizabeth waited for a further response but finally, seeing that any expectations she might have as to him acting upon his knowledge were fruitless, said with a distinct coolness, "But I can see that our concerns are not of interest."

"There are, Miss Bennet, other concerns involved."

That he was unwilling to involve himself and the realization of her own powerlessness in the situation caused a strong feeling of displeasure and she snapped, "How convenient!"

She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon for her intrusion – slight though it was – into his private affairs, and directed all his anger against another.

They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain thus accosted her, "So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham! - Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions; and I find that the young man forgot to tell you, among his other communications, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has been always remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy, in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all, is a most insolent thing indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; but really, considering his descent one could not expect much better."

"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same," said Elizabeth with amusement; "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself. His other tales of misfortunes are not such as to involve my concern."

"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. "Excuse my interference. - It was kindly meant."

"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and malice towards me." She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment everything else gave way before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness.

"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person, in which case you may be sure of my pardon."

"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received; and I am sorry to say that by his account as well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard."

"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"

"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton."

"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am perfectly satisfied. But what does he say of the living?"

"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to him conditionally only."

"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly; "but you must excuse my not being wholly convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able one I dare say, but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I am no further advanced in my understanding of the matter and left still to think of both gentlemen as I did before."

She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it.

On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.

To Elizabeth it appeared, that, had her family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit, or finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. To watch her youngest sisters sport so brazenly and with so little propriety throughout the evening, to have to endure Mary's misguided attempts to perform on the pianoforte, to witness her father's improper regulation of Mary's behaviour, to have to listen to her mother's blatant and presumptuous public boasting of Jane's marriage prospects and to have Mr. Collins show himself as everything thing that was foolish and obsequious in front of the Bingley sisters and Mr. Darcy would, if her dances with Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy had not already done so, removed any possibility for enjoyment.

The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail with her to dance with him again, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her, and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.

She was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy's further notice; though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart; and by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriages a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing, threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all.

Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of "Lord how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.

When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and addressed herself particularly to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.

That Mr. Bingley seemed oblivious to all of her family's improprieties and thus unlikely to be reluctant to pursue an attachment to Jane was the only pleasure she could take from the ball.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth sat alone in her room contemplating the letter she had just finished penning to her Aunt Gardiner. She had needed to express all that had happened in the last weeks and had no other source. She had not written in any expectation of a resolution but simply to unburden herself since she had found no ear at Longbourn with whom she wished or trusted to share her thoughts. She perused it for the last time.

 _Longbourn House_

 _Hertfordshire_

 _Dear Aunt Gardiner,_

 _I find myself very much in need of a sympathetic ear and for once I feel unable to burden my dear Jane since her distress is contributing to mine and I would not wish to add to hers. Even my father is of no assistance at this time since he views all the events with amusement, concerning himself not at all with that which distresses anyone in his house. I am sorry to speak so of my father but sometimes he distances himself from the turmoil of the house as to be insensible as to the events that unfold – a fact which plagues me greatly. I have wondered if anything short of a fire in his library would cause him concern. I will put my irritation with my father aside and relate those events which have so discomposed me._

 _I have finally received an offer of marriage. My mother's efforts were crowned with success and her pleasure was immense until she learned that I had refused it. Since then I have heard little but what an ungrateful child I was. But perhaps I should explain what happened. As you probably know, Mr. William Collins, our cousin and heir to Longbourn, visited us for a fortnight in November. His avowed purpose was to heal the breach between our two families and to do so by marrying one of my father's daughters. Mamma was quite happy to assist him in this matter and, between them, quite settled on myself as their choice – Jane being removed from such consideration because of the interest shown by Mr. Bingley (but more on that later). I, of course, was not consulted on the matter which was unfortunate since I had not known Mr. Collins above five minutes when I determined I would never marry him. Why my mother would fix on me I cannot understand since Mary would have been the better choice and likely to have accepted him – poor girl. I say that because Mr. Collins is quite the most ridiculous gentleman I have had the misfortune to meet. He is not a sensible man and although a rector and possessed of a decent living, such attendance at a university as he did make was surely poorly spent since he shows little signs of having learned anything. His basic characteristics seem to be pomposity, conceit and an overwhelming deference for any person of greater consequence in the world – particularly one Lady Catherine de Bourgh who holds the living he serves. His obsequiousness is quite a marvel to endure I assure you._

 _The gentleman did settle on me as his future companion in life and did propose despite my most earnest efforts to avoid it altogether. It must have been the worst proposal that any woman had received. It took me several days to be able to view it with the humour it deserves which, since you know my nature, must tell how dreadful it was. I suppose I should respect his privacy and not relate the details of his offer but he was so insistent and ridiculous throughout that I feel little compunction on relating it to one who I am assured will respect my privacy if not his._

 _His wish to marry, I was assured, were at the express wish of Lady Catherine that he take a wife and since he was to inherit Longbourn, my lack of a dowry was of no concern. He wrapped this up in an excess of verbiage and then, without actually proposing, appears to have assumed that we were engaged. I very quickly attempted to correct his misapprehension. It proved to be a truly difficult undertaking and I will not belabour you sensibilities by relating all of the details. He crowned his efforts by asserting that I could assuredly not be serious in rejecting his offer since it was unlikely I would ever receive another. Even if true – which it may well be – it certainly does nothing to recommend a gentleman to a lady he wished to marry. I was required to state my refusal no less than five times and eventually leave the room before he believed me. Even then I suspect it was only Mamma's reaction that convinced him of my resolve. Mamma's application to my father to force me to accept was soundly rejected – thank heavens for that at least – and his manner of doing so was the only aspect that I found amusing at the time. Mamma, you see, had said she would no longer speak to me if I refused – a promise which lasted no longer than her next breath. Papa said to me, and I quote, 'An unhappy alternative is before you. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. - Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.' My mother, as you can imagine, was most unhappy and spared no effort in expressing that to me and to anyone else who came within her presence._

 _Now comes the amazing and, to me at least, the most discommoding part of the whole situation. Mr. Collins, within a day of two of my rejecting his suit, offered for and was accepted by Charlotte Lucas who, I have come to believe intentionally sought his attentions by inviting him to dine with the Lucases that very day. The removal of his presence was a relief but such an outcome can hardly be viewed with anything other than concern. Unfortunately I was not able to hide my distress and disbelief from Charlotte when she informed me of her decision. I have never thought well of Mr. Collins and now I am finding it hard to think well of Charlotte. That she accepted him for purely prudent reasons – to secure herself a home and relieve her family of the burden of her spinster status she admitted herself. While I have long realized that her stated opinions on marriage have never been mine, I had not expected that she would enter a marriage where there is such an inequality of sense and understanding. I would prefer almost anything than to be married to such a man. I am sure you can imagine my mother's distress - and my wish to avoid conveying a description of it - at the thought of Charlotte becoming the Mistress of Longbourn and with me for refusing Mr. Collins._

 _My dealings with Mr. Collins are the least of my worries now. Jane's happiness and hopes – which scant weeks ago seemed assured – now appear to have become as unlikely as a sign of intelligence in Mr. Collins. (I suppose I should stop abusing the poor man – perhaps I will start tomorrow.) Mr. Bingley, who we all thought had formed an attraction to Jane – he danced with her three times at the Ball – has left for London. While he initially indicated that his absence would be of a short duration, it now appears he has no intention of returning – or at least his sisters would have us believe it to be so. Miss Bingley wrote Jane a letter the day following the ball in which she intimated that they would not be returning. As well they suggested the Mr. Bingley had formed an attachment with Miss Darcy – the younger sister of Mr. Darcy. Jane, as ever most generous when considering the motives of others, would not credit these assertions as anything other than the absolute truth and felt she had misinterpreted Mr. Bingley's attentions. Indeed anyone who has ever seen them together, cannot doubt his affection. Miss Bingley I am sure cannot. She is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes; but none of my efforts to convince Jane of Mr. Bingley's affections met with any success and she could not credit Miss Bingley with any designs other than acting in her brother's interests. I, however, suspect that Miss Bingley views Jane's connections and lack of dowry as contrary to Miss Bingley's designs to attach Mr. Darcy to herself. That gentleman has made his distaste for our family and Hertfordshire in general quite clear._

 _While I was quite convinced at first that Mr. Bingley would return – his attachment to Jane was obvious to anyone with eyes – I am no longer as sanguine. I cannot, with the passage of a fortnight, now help but believe that the united efforts of his unfeeling sisters and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy (although we have only Miss Bingley's word on this) and the amusements of London, might be too much for the strength of his attachment. My fears that we should see Mr. Bingley no more this winter were confirmed by a second letter from Miss Bingley. I am now convinced of her machinations and that my sister's tender heart has been broken. My mother, of course, laments his departure with great regularity which no doubt adds to Jane's distress. Our father takes his usual amusement from it all. His form of consolation is to congratulate Jane for being crossed in love. After all, according to my father, next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. Apparently it gives her something to think of and a sort of distinction among her companions. For my part I am much disappointed in Mr. Bingley. His want of resolution and the impropriety – the caprice I might almost say - of his addresses to Jane cannot recommend him to me. Jane is more charitable and takes the fault to herself and believes it to have not been more than an error of fancy on her side, and that it has done no harm to anyone but herself. She is much too good._

 _I can say no more on this issue. I have related them only as to relieve my own frustration. I would welcome your thoughts but they can await your visit at Christmas. You can be assured of a warm welcome and much to talk about with us all. Unfortunately good news will be scarce indeed. This brings up a more serious and puzzling problem and on this I would wish your consideration and advice when you arrive. It concerns Mr. Darcy and a Mr. Wickham who has lately joined the _shire Militia._

 _Mr. Darcy I have already mentioned. He is a most disagreeable man, replete with pride, arrogance, conceit and a very selfish disdain – which he did not scruple to hide - for all outside his own party. Mr. Wickham – who is from Derbyshire as is Mr. Darcy - is a handsome, amiable gentleman who claims to have been injured in some dealings with Mr. Darcy, the particulars of which he revealed to me the first occasion of our acquaintance. The impropriety of his doing so only occurred to me later and, if he had not sworn that he would not speak against Mr. Darcy before doing exactly that, I might well have given credit to his story. He is a most creditable gentleman and, it appears, a proficient liar. The problem is that I have no idea of the truth of the issue between Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy and it now appears that a story confined solely to myself has, with the departure of Mr. Darcy, become more widespread._

 _I did attempt to confront Mr. Darcy with Mr. Wickham's story but his response was quite unhelpful although seemingly to justify my concerns about Mr. Wickham's character. Mr. Darcy would only state that Mr. Wickham was unable to retain people's good opinion once it had been given. He did confirm that my suspicions were not without foundation and that Mr. Wickham could cause some harm to my neighbours. When I pressed him about the latter, his disdain was evident and I had to be satisfied with his assertion that there were other factors to be considered. You can imagine how unhappy I am. I have spoken to my father but he is unwilling to undertake any action. I am not sure he gives any credit to my concerns and you know his reluctance to involve himself with matters outside his library. That he dislikes Mr. Darcy may have some bearing on his disinterest as well although he has met the gentleman only rarely._

 _Perhaps I am unwise to involve myself in this matter and I have made every effort to discourage Mr. Wickham's attentions; however, my younger sisters are quite enamoured of him and he is a frequent visitor to Longbourn. I would be interested in your opinions on the gentleman since I expect he will call on us during your visit. His creditability suffered, in my eyes at least, with a further contradiction. After stating that he would not avoid Mr. Darcy, he did not attended the Netherfield Ball to which he and the other officers had been invited. When I spoke to him a day or so later, he claimed to have chosen not to attend to avoid any unpleasantness for his host Mr. Bingley. Since Mr. Darcy did not behave improperly when he unexpectedly met Mr. Wickham in Meryton, I cannot believe he would do so at a ball where others were present. It seems more likely that Mr. Wickham was reluctant to face Mr. Darcy, a reluctance - almost fear I might surmise – that he first showed when they met in Meryton._

 _Have I plagued you enough? I thank you for your forbearance. It was most kindly done on your part, I assure you and badly done on mine I suspect. I have need of a confidante and have chosen to unburden myself to the wisest and most sensible of my advisors._

 _Your bemused an bedlam-bound niece,_

 _Elizabeth_

With Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth could not be comfortable. His company did serve to dispel some of the gloom that pervade Longbourn. Kitty and Lydia took much pleasure in inviting him and Mrs. Bennet was always eager for his company, perhaps in the hope he might attach himself to one of her daughters. That he was determined to build upon the approbation he believed he had discerned in Elizabeth, she was not long in doubt. On the first occasion of his being invited to Longbourn, he had come to sit by Elizabeth and to engage her in conversation. The first topic addressed was the Netherfield Ball and his excuses for his absence were given and coolly received. If he was surprised to be denied more appreciation for his forbearance in avoiding any unpleasantness by not attending, such as he received was tendered by Lydia. For her part, Elizabeth had confined herself to a slight purse of her lips which Mr. Wickham, by dint of looking at Lydia, missed altogether. His next comment was addressed to Elizabeth.

"I suppose Mr. Darcy was his usual proud, aloof self?"

Elizabeth admitted as much but Lydia interjected, "He did ask Lizzy to dance and she agreed. And she had vowed never to dance with him. What a laugh!"

Mr. Wickham looked surprised, "He asked you to dance. A singular honour indeed. Whatever could he mean by it, I wonder?"

Elizabeth answered civilly, although it as a question she had wondered herself, "I admit to some surprise."

Seeing Mr. Wickham look thoughtful, she added, "He is an excellent dancer."

"I suppose he was silent throughout. His conversation is always quite limited away from those he considers his peers."

Elizabeth took some moments to frame her answer. She had begun to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present behavior to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure, for those attentions which had marked their initial acquaintance could only serve, after what she had since come to believe of him, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the reproof contained in his believing that her vanity would be gratified and her preference secured at any time by his attentions. Though she had first wished to discourage Mr. Wickham without alarming him as to her suspicions, she no longer concerned herself in that respect. "We had some conversation. After all one cannot dance for thirty minutes with someone without saying something."

"Indeed!" cried Wickham with a look which did not escape her. "And pray may I ask - ?" but checking himself, he added in a gayer tone, "You do not appear displeased by his asking you to dance. Is it in address that he improves? Has he deigned to add ought of civility to his ordinary style? For I dare not hope," he continued in a lower and more serious tone, "that he is improved in conversability. Pray, what did you talk of?"

"Well, he was much as he ever was although he did mention your name."

While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention, "My name! Indeed! And what did he accuse me of?"

"Accuse you? Of what could he accuse you, sir? Are you not the injured party?"

Elizabeth's teasing tone belied her answer and she could see Wickham relaxed, if only slightly. That he would respond so to such innocuous phrases worried her but not so much as to make her reluctant to tease him a little further.

"He did say that you had the happy knack of making friends but had encountered some problem in keeping them." She waited for a few seconds before affording him an arch look and saying, "I am of the opinion that one should not be too ready to decide on one side or the other in cases such as this."

Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look; for a few minutes he was silent; till, shaking off his embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of accents, "He has given you reason to doubt my word?"

Elizabeth was getting a little fatigued with this fencing and was less concerned to placate Mr. Wickham, "No sir, that task was accomplished by yourself. Mr. Darcy only confirmed that my suspicions were not unfounded."

"Myself?"

"Would not your suspicions be awakened if a gentleman told you he would not slander another man because of his affection for that man's father and then proceeded to do so?"

Elizabeth could see that Wickham appeared very uncomfortable with this line of conversation and quickly began paying easy compliments to her. Her reception of them was pleasant but she gave no sign of appreciating such attention and within a few minutes he seized the opportunity of Lydia's asking him a question to move and sit beside her. The rest of the evening passed with the appearance, on his side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no farther attempt to distinguish Elizabeth; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again though both knew that to be impossible.

Their subsequent meetings were much of the same and it became quickly obvious that Wickham's attentions were, to the delight of Lydia and other young girls, not directed towards Elizabeth and, if they had been at all attentive, they could have easily discerned that he was in fact avoiding her company. During this time the whole of what Elizabeth had already heard – his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him – was now acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was pleased to think how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they had known anything of the matter.

Miss Bennet and increasingly Elizabeth, were the only creatures who could suppose that there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case unknown to the society of Hertfordshire: Jane's mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances while Elizabeth only suggested that, her dislike of Mr. Darcy notwithstanding, she had no reason to believe him to be so dishonourable. By everyone else Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.

Some days later Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so well bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a very particular regard. They had frequently been staying with her in town.

The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business on her arrival, was to distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was done, she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen. Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her girls had been on the point of marriage, and after all there was nothing in it.

"I do not blame Jane," she continued, "for Jane would have got Mr. Bingley, if she could. But, Lizzy! Oh, sister! it is very hard to think that she might have been Mr. Collins's wife by this time, had not it been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have a daughter married before I have, and that Longbourn estate is just as much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed, sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of long sleeves."

Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, in the course of Jane and Elizabeth's correspondence with her, made her sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the conversation. When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. "It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane," said she. "I am sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets her, that these sort of inconstancies are very frequent."

"An excellent consolation in its way," said Elizabeth, "but it will not do for us. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a girl, whom he was violently in love with only a few days before."

"But that expression of "violently in love'' is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from an half-hour's acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how violent was Mr. Bingley's love? Your letter could tell me only little."

"I never saw a more promising inclination. He was growing quite inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies by not asking them to dance, and I spoke to him twice myself without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?"

"Oh, yes! - of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy; you would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she would be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service - and perhaps a little relief from home, may be as useful as anything."

Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded of her sister's ready acquiescence.

"I hope," added Mrs. Gardiner, "that no consideration with regard to this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go out so little, that it is very improbable they should meet at all, unless he really comes to see her."

"And that is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his friend, and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a part of London - ! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may perhaps have heard of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him from its impurities, were he once to enter it; and depend upon it, Mr. Bingley never stirs without him."

"So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane correspond with the sister? She will not be able to help calling."

"She will drop the acquaintance entirely."

But in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley's being withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that his affection might be re-animated, and the influence of his friends successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane's attractions. Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with pleasure; and the Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the time, than as she hoped that, by Caroline's not living in the same house with her brother, she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of seeing him.

The Gardiners stayed but a week at Longbourn; and what with the Philipses, the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always made part of it, of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and on these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's concerns of him, narrowly observed him.. She could not, from what she saw, see anything to confirm or refute Elizabeth's charges against him; however, from observing his behaviour with Lydia, though not believing her to be very seriously in love, her preference for him was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and she resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left Hertfordshire.

To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure, unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many acquaintance in common; and, though Wickham had been little there since the death of Darcy's father, five years before, it was yet in his power to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends, than she had been in the way of procuring. Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known the late Mr. Darcy by character perfectly well. Here, consequently, was an inexhaustible subject of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both him and herself. On being made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy's treatment of him, she tried to remember something of that gentleman's reputed disposition, when quite a lad, which might agree with it, and was confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy.

The night before the Gardiners were to leave, Elizabeth sought out her aunt for a private conversation. That lady had also been seeking the same and so they met late that evening in Elizabeth's room. Mrs. Gardiner spoke first, "Lizzy, I am a little concerned about Lydia's attraction to Mr. Wickham. If it had been yourself, I would not worry about the possibility of improper behaviour. With Lydia …"

"I have noted her partiality although I do not see that he favours her above anyone else."

"Perhaps, I could not detect anything in his manner that would support your concerns but I should not expect to perhaps."

"Perhaps it will be as well, if you can discourage his coming here so very often."

"Unfortunately those invitations are mostly extended by Lydia" protested Elizabeth; "I agree it will be wise to discourage her from doing so though she listens to my counsel but rarely. But do not imagine that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been so frequently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the necessity of constant company for her friends. Mrs. Gardiner sat calmly as she watched Elizabeth pondering some matter.

"Aunt, a thought occurred to me when I heard you discussing Lambton with Mr. Wickham. Do you not still have acquaintances there?"

"Yes, although I have not had contact with them for ten years or more." She paused, "You wish me to contact them?"

Elizabeth assented suggesting that they might have further information, possibly on Mr. Wickham and certainly on Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Gardiner agreed to attempt to reacquaint herself with them and on this note they separated to seek their sleep.

Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted by the Gardiners and Jane; but, as he took up his abode with the Lucases, his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was now fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to think it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say in an ill-natured tone that she "wished they might be happy." Thursday was to be the wedding day, and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and when she rose to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied her out of the room. As they went down stairs together, Charlotte said, "I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza."

"That you certainly shall."

"And I have another favour to ask. Will you come and see me?"

"We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire."

"I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to come to Hunsford."

Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the visit.

"My father and Maria are to come to me in March," added Charlotte, "and I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be as welcome to me as either of them."

The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from the church door, and everybody had as much to say or to hear on the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, and, though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait for her own visit there, to know the rest.

Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys. Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience generally is. Jane had been a week in town, without either seeing or hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that her last letter to her friend from Longbourn had by some accident been lost.

"My aunt," she continued, "is going to-morrow into that part of the town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor-street."

She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley. "I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words, "but she was very glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming to London. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached her. I enquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much engaged with Mr. Darcy, that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall soon see them here."

Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her that accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town. Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more, the alteration of her manner, would allow Jane to deceive herself no longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister, will prove what she felt.

 _My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her better judgment, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me but, if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again._

 _Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime. When she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it; she made a slight, formal, apology for not calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as she did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her brother is the cause of it, I need not explain myself farther; and though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may feel on his behalf is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and yet it should seem by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, and think only of what will make me happy: your affection, and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear from you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am sure you will be very comfortable there._

 _Yours, &c._

This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned as she considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least. All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not even wish for any renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible advantage to Jane, she rather hoped he might really soon marry Mr. Darcy's sister, as, by Wickham's account, she would make him abundantly regret what he had thrown away. However she could attach little credit to such accounts and remembering that Miss Darcy was but fifteen or sixteen years of age, rather thought the idea more a product of Miss Bingley's hopes and aspirations than any design of Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley..

Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth had such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to herself. His apparent partiality to Lydia, such as it was, had subsided, his attentions were over, he was the admirer of someone else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to see it all, but she could not see it and write of it without material concern. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable; but Elizabeth, as clear-sighted in his case as in Charlotte's, could not view his actions with anything but concern. That his motives were entirely mercenary, she could not doubt but that she could offer no means of warning the young lady, she knew with absolute assurance. Of what could she charge him that would be creditable to one who could accept his attentions without seeing the insincerity of them? She knew that if Lydia was in the happy possession of such a dowry, she would not accept any abridgement of her affections. That her father would consent to such a match Elizabeth was also certain, if only to rid himself of his least favoured daughter.

All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the circumstances, she thus went on: "My feelings are not cordial towards him; I am most concerned for Miss King. I cannot find that I blame her at all. Mr. Wickham has the most engaging manners; I think her a very good sort of girl but very, very foolish to accept his advances when he had shown no prior interest in her. There can be no love in all this. Kitty and Lydia take his defection very much to heart. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the plain and mercenary motives can dictate the path that attachments follow.

It was around the end of February that Elizabeth received a letter from her aunt which, upon reading, caused her to seek audience with her father. Entering his study, she found him engaged, as was his usual wont, ensconced in his comfortable armchair in front of the fireplace and reading a philosophical treatise. His glance at her was, also as usual, rather absent-minded and she found that she had to speak more sharply than she had intended to gain his full attention.

"Papa, I have just received a letter from my Aunt Gardiner which I, and she, believe you must read."

Ignoring his raised eyebrows she removed the book from his hands – carefully marking the opened page - and replaced it with the letter and sat herself in the facing armchair. He was unable to mask his surprise at her peremptory actions but his objections were cut off by a crisp "Read it….please!"

Turning his attention to the letter he noted somewhat absently that it was written in his sister-in-law's neat hand and, as he read, he found his attention more closely fixed on the contents of the letter.

 _Gracechurch Street_

 _London_

 _Dear Lizzy,_

 _I am writing to you as a matter of some urgency. At your request, I undertook to renew my former acquaintances in Lambton. I wrote to five of my former friends and was pleased to receive acknowledgements from three of them – you must remember it has been about ten years since I left Lambton and two of them have apparently married and left Lambton. I had received responses from two of them earlier this week and the contents of their letters was quite informative, there was no reason for particular urgency and I thought to wait for a few days more in the event I received additional letters. Today I received a letter from Mrs. Adele Sinclair – Adele Howard that was – which is most alarming and I thought it best to write immediately and impart the news that you – or rather your father – could act at once. In this I am seconded by your uncle who is fully apprised of the contents of all the letters I have received._

 _In summary Lizzy, it appears that Mr. Wickham is possessed of a most dissolute character. I have in on very good authority that about five years ago – when he was last in Lambton – he departed that place leaving behind considerable debts. The amount I cannot state but all three of my friends asserted this and two of them revealed that he left their husbands some fifty pounds poorer when he left. When apprised of the situation by the shopkeepers in Lambton who were requesting Mr. Wickham's address, Mr. Darcy admitted that he had lost contact with the gentleman but agreed to recompense all of them for Mr. Wickham's debts to the full amount owed stating that his connection to the Darcy family may have enabled him to incur such debts. Whatever the truth of the matter, it was a most honourable action on Mr. Darcy's part. The total amount that was paid is unknown but my friends believe that Mr. Darcy may have laid out several hundred pounds in total._

 _However, it is not this information – worrying as it is – that most concerns me. Adele Sinclair has informed me from personal knowledge that Mr. Wickham has not scrupled to compromise several young women in the area – a daughter of a shopkeeper in one case and two young servant girls, one of whom worked at Pemberley. Adele is not sure how much Mr. Darcy knows but of the girl who works for him, he has particular knowledge since it was by his means that she was provided for. Adele assures me of the verity of this information – she is involved in much charity work in Lambton – and, as well, the daughter of the shopkeeper was well known to her and since there were unfortunate circumstances arising as a result of Mr. Wickham's activities in all three instances with which she was familiar, it was difficult to keep the circumstances private._

 _Mr. Wickham should not be allowed in company with any decent young girl. As you are quite aware, his manners are engaging and he is quite able to fix the attentions of a young lady particularly if she is of an innocent and unsuspecting nature. Apparently all three of the girls in Lambton – there may well be more but they have remained silent – believed him to be offering marriage and believed only that they were anticipating their vows. He seems to have claimed that Mr. Darcy would provide a living to enable him to marry. I and your uncle are concerned for the safety of Lydia and Kitty who, from my observation at Christmas, appeared quite enamoured of Mr. Wickham. I realize his purported attentions to Miss King would seem to preclude his attending them or they, him; but I would not wish to be so sanguine on the matter. Mr. Wickham should be shunned by all decent families in Hertfordshire. I would be particularly concerned for Miss King, since her situation could be dire. Mr. Wickham's motives cannot be viewed as anything other than mercenary and her fortune is the main attraction._

 _I will not attempt to instruct you or your father on the appropriate measures to take but warning the family of Miss King and the Colonel of Mr. Wickham's regiment would seem necessary. Your uncle has suggested that your mother and Mrs. Philips be informed of the particulars. Once done, he believes you can be assured that all of Meryton will know of Mr. Wickham's character within two days. I am not disposed to disagree with him._

 _Yours,_

 _M. Gardiner_

Mr. Bennet was sufficiently disturbed by what he had read, to submit it to a second perusal; once that was complete, he sat in a thoughtful silence for several minutes before speaking to Elizabeth.

"I no long wonder at your concerns, Lizzy and congratulate you on your discernment of last fall. I admit to a rather fond regard for Mr. Wickham on my part and to be proven so very wrong is rather…humiliating I find."

Elizabeth admitted that she had herself nearly accepted Mr. Wickham's tale without reservation if he had not contradicted himself twice in the telling of it.

"Well Lizzy, I find your uncle's advice quite interesting. He knows his sisters all too well. The duplicity of the scheme I find extraordinarily diverting. I shall provide this letter to your mother today. I am sure she will want to share it with her sister rather soon."

"What about Miss King, Papa?"

"If your mother and her sister quite sink Mr. Wickham's reputation as quickly as I suspect, we will not have to worry overly much or long about any purported engagement."

"And the shopkeepers?"

"Hhmm! The rumours should have a similar effect on them as well."

Elizabeth agreed but suggested that a warning to Colonel Forster would be a civil action and he might be disposed to ensure that Mr. Wickham settled his accounts properly. To this Mr. Bennet reluctantly agreed although such exertion was beyond his usual habit and the morrow did indeed see him visit the Colonel and reveal the contents of Mrs. Gardiner's letter. He was able to relate satisfactorily to Elizabeth that the Colonel was quite disturbed at the information imparted and had been convinced to confine Mr. Wickham to his quarters until the issues had been more fully investigated.

That Mr. Wickham was no longer received in any of the homes in Meryton became widely known within a week; his engagement to Miss King broken and the young lady removed from the area by her uncle followed not long after. If Miss King's affections suffered as a result, it was more generally agreed that she was fortunate indeed to have escaped an attachment to such a scoundrel. Captain Denny was overheard, several days following Mr. Bennet's visit to Colonel Forster, to speak of Mr. Wickham's arrest.

Some weeks later the Colonel was to visit Mr. Bennet to inform him, because of his instrumentality in making him aware of Mr. Wickham's misdeeds, that that gentleman had been tried by court martial, found guilty and given the choice of joining the regulars and being shipped to Spain to fight there or being sent to Debtor's Prison where his debts would ensure his residence to be of no few years. Mr. Wickham chose to join the regulars and had already been sent on his way to Spain.

If Lydia and other young ladies were disheartened by his departure, their sorrows were of short duration. The attractions of other young gentleman in red coats, who possessed the advantage of being present and available to admire them, were sufficient to quite drive thoughts of Mr. Wickham from their minds. On Elizabeth's part, she felt little only relief that the matter had been resolved with so little damage to her neighbours – she had not heard of any seductions although she realized that some might not be known for some months yet since the consequences were not immediately obvious.

However the truth of the matter was that, after revealing to her father the contents of the letter from her aunt, she had been quite willing to leave responsibility for acting on those contents to others. She had a more pressing and personal concern for her aunt had enclosed with the letter outlining the perfidy of Mr. Wickham, another both private and addressing the issue of Mr. Darcy. After she had left her father and returned to her room, she read that letter once more.

 _Lizzie,_

 _I am writing a separate note for you only since I am sure you would not wish to excite your mother's interest in the subject matter. After receiving the letters from my acquaintances in Lambton, I was particularly taken with a comment that one of them made to the effect that the worst they knew of Mr. Darcy was a reputation for pride which she was also honest enough to suggest was attributed to him mainly because Pemberley did little business in Lambton. In fact, I believe they deal mostly in Kympton. I was, as a consequence, minded to read once more all of your letters since Mr. Darcy came to Hertfordshire._

 _I think you should reconsider your opinion of Mr. Darcy. I know how stubborn you can be about your opinion of people but in this instance, it is my belief that you may be quite mistaken. I am not going to pretend that the behaviour of Mr. Darcy at your initial introduction was anything less than completely uncivil; however, it was not meant to be overheard and I am sure, given what you have otherwise related of his manners, that he would be acutely embarrassed if he knew you had heard it. I would ask you to consider putting this incident behind you and forget it was ever said, difficult though that may be._

 _You have held that against him long enough I believe and, if he once held the opinions expressed then, it is quite obvious to me from your own words that he no longer does so. I believe he finds you quite tolerable indeed. Would he have asked a young lady that he dislike and to whom he was indifferent to dance? How many other young ladies in Hertfordshire - apart from Mr. Bingley's sisters with whom he was obligated to dance – did he ask? I questioned Jane and her answer was none! He did not even ask your own sister, acclaimed beauty that she is, to dance. Only you Lizzy. Only you!_

 _Another point I wish to suggest that you have misinterpreted is that he looks at you in disapproval, to criticize. I am sorry Lizzy but this is almost too laughable for words. A gentleman does not gaze frequently upon a young lady – nor a lady upon a gentleman – only too disapprove. If one disapproves, one avoids looking at the person much as one avoids the company of that person. I am convinced that, if Mr. Darcy is frequently looking at you, it is more likely due to admiration, not disgust or contempt._

 _Finally, I know you believe him to be involved in separating Jane from Mr. Bingley. I do not disagree but regardless of his involvement, the decision to not return to Hertfordshire must be held to the account of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Bingley alone. If Mr. Bingley's affections were truly engaged and he felt a strong affection for Jane then his absence reveals him to be seriously deficient in resolution, a character flaw of significance I believe. I would not want to see Jane attached to such a man – the circumstances of their marriage will emit of many instances where a want of resolution might be of major import. Alternately, if his attachment to Jane was not sufficient to survive an absence of a s'enight then once more Jane, despite the strength of her own affections, should not mourn his loss. To the point – I do not believe that Mr. Darcy, regardless of his involvement, should be held responsible for the separation of Jane and Mr. Bingley._

 _I do not ask, nor do I expect, you to change those opinions, which you have nurtured so vehemently for many months, on the morrow. I do ask that you consider Mr. Darcy's behaviour in a more favourable light. You may never be in his company again since you move in so very different spheres but should that occur or should you encounter those who are known to Mr. Darcy, it might be in your interest to – using your own words – begin a new sketch of his character if you encounter him or speak well of him to his acquaintances. I have reason to believe your past efforts are flawed._

 _I also hope that I have not affronted you too much and know that you remain my favourite niece._

 _M. Gardiner_

Elizabeth held her aunt in too much esteem to ignore such a suggestion, reluctant though she was to do so but, once having admitted the possibility that her aunt's request was not unreasonable, her sense of justice required her to review her opinion. As she did so she found that her dislike of the gentleman was ameliorated to a considerable degree and that her understanding of his character quite deficient since she had, she realized, made little effort to discover it. Her own dislike had, she thought, prejudiced her interpretations of his actions and she could no longer rely on them. Unfortunately, she had little to replace them with and, as a consequence, found she knew less of Mr. Darcy than she previously believed.

That he contained a full measure of pride and disdain for the society of Meryton, she remained convinced. His attitude at the Assembly, those social occasions in which he participated, the Netherfield Ball all pointed to a great reluctance to converse and associate with that society. His haughty manner conveyed his disdain in a fashion that none could deny and his responses to her questions at the Ball seemed to suggest that he saw no necessity to involve himself in welfare of Meryton society which appeared to be based on his sense of superiority. Yes, Elizabeth thought. I believe him to be a proud, disagreeable man. That he was superior to those around him was not really at issue. His pride was perhaps justified to a large degree; his expression of it in the disdain he showed was at the heart of the matter. That such a man could have an attraction for her was a matter on which she was not able to reach a conclusion. Her belief in his dislike she now conceded may have been in error; he had dealt with her in a civil manner when she visited Netherfield and, if he had shown the occasional signs of anger, she recognized that her own impertinence had been intended to provoke just such a display. Indeed, when she thought on it further, he had invariably been more civil to her than she to him although hers had been masked by her teasing manner.

Her aunt's suggestion of a preference on his part she found hard to accept. Other than those glances which she was now prepared to concede may not have been indicative of his dislike, did not themselves reveal any particular interest. She could not fathom why he looked and certainly he had not paid her any particular attentions nor attempted to engage her in conversation although opportunities had presented themselves. This conclusion had no sooner been reached when she remembered that he had, prior to the Netherfield Ball, solicited her hand to dance not once, but twice and she had declined both requests. In either she believed him capable of not making the offer and could only now believe that he had done so in the expectation that she would accept. And yet, he had sat with her for a half hour complete and not made a single effort to converse with her. She could not grasp his intentions, if he had any, and certainly he had done nothing to raise any expectations on her part. She resolved to speak civilly of him in the future but, since she had no expectation of being in his company in the future, to think of him no more.

With such events as those related above and otherwise diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and sometimes cold, did January and February pass away for the Longbourn family. March was to take Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan, and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure as well as greater certainty.

Absence had increased her desire of seeing Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There was novelty in the scheme; and as, with such a mother and such uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give her a peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have been very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly, and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement of spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became perfect as plan could be. The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going that he told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.

Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her think him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria, a good humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delight as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but she had known Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of the wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were worn out like his information.

It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner's door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; when they entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth, looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls, whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them to wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and kindness.

The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres. Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first subject was her sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to her minute enquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support her spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to hope, that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the particulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch Street, and repeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane and herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the acquaintance.

Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's fate, and complimented her on her role in bringing it about.

'My dear aunt, if you had not discovered, from your friends in Lambton, all that you related to me, nothing would or could have happened. I had nothing on which my father could act and he would not have done so for anything less than what you provided. It was all to your good graces that Wickham has been dealt with."

"Lizzy, I would never have acted if you had not pushed me to do so. The thought of soliciting information from those acquaintances would not have occurred to me."

"But, my dear Elizabeth," she added, "what sort of girl is Miss King? I should be sorry to think her heart was damaged by the loss of Mr. Wickham's attentions."

"I cannot say. She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her. Miss King has yet to return and it is possible that her heart was involved. We all know that Wickham has every charms of person and address that can captivate a woman."

"But he paid her not the smallest attention, till her grandfather's death made her mistress of this fortune."

"No indeed and that was, for me, a sure sign of his mercenary character. He had no occasion to making love to a girl whom he did not care about and who was poor until she came into her fortune."

"But there seems such an indelicacy, some obviousness to be sure, in directing his attentions towards her, so soon after this event which must have warned Miss King's family."

"Their not objecting to his attentions certainly shows a deficiency in something - sense or feeling."

"I cannot help but agree, Lizzy. I am sorry, you know, to think so ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire."

"Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in Derbyshire; although I admit to a lessening of my dislike for one of those gentlemen. Thank Heaven! I am going tomorrow where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing, after all."

"Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment."

Elizabeth was not sorry that her aunt had not questioned her further on Mr. Darcy and hoped her indication that she thought less poorly of him would satisfy her aunt's curiosity and let her know that she had acted on her thoughts about Mr. Darcy. Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.

"We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us," said Mrs. Gardiner, "but perhaps to the Lakes."

No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. "My dear, dear aunt," she rapturously cried, "what delight! what felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! And when we do return, it shall not be like other travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We will know where we have gone—we will recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers, shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor, when we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrelling about its relative situation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of travellers."


	3. Chapter 3

Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state for enjoyment; for she had seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.

When they left the high-road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. The palings of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants. At length the Parsonage was discerned. The garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge, everything declared that they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at a small gate, which led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with coming, when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw instantly that her cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage; his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his enquiries after all her family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time with ostentatious formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's offers of refreshment.

Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him by any sigh of repentance; and rather looked with wonder at her friend that she could have so cheerful an air, with such a companion. When Mr. Collins said anything of which his wife might reasonably be ashamed, which certainly was not infrequent, she involuntarily turned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself.

To work in his garden was one of his most respectable pleasures; and Elizabeth admired the command of countenance with which Charlotte talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which the country, or the kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground.

From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows, but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband's help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit.

When Mr. Collins could be forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout, and by Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often forgotten. She had already learned that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining in, observed, "Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice when service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying that she will include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I should say, one of her ladyship's carriages, for she has several."

"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed," added Charlotte, "and a most attentive neighbour."

"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference."

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and telling again what had been already written – the fate and disposition of Mr. Wickham being of particular interest and Elizabeth's role therein; and when it closed, Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with her husband, and to acknowledge that it was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all.

About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in confusion; and after listening a moment, she heard somebody running up stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the door, and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out, "Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment."

Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more, and down they ran into the dining room, which fronted the lane, in quest of this wonder; it was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the garden gate.

"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter!"

"La! my dear," said Maria quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them. The other is Miss De Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little creature. Who would have thought she could be so thin and small!"

"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind. Why does she not come in?"

"Oh! Charlotte says, she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours when Miss De Bourgh comes in."

"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. "She looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will make him a very proper wife."

Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversation with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh looked that way. At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked to dine at Rosings the next day.

Mr. Collins's triumph in consequence of this invitation was complete. The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of doing it should be given so soon was such an instance of Lady Catherine's condescension as he knew not how to admire enough.

"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by her Ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there (an invitation moreover including the whole party) so immediately after your arrival!"

"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William, "from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the Court, such instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon."

Scarcely any thing was talked of the whole day, or next morning, but their visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and so splendid a dinner might not wholly overpower them.

As Elizabeth gaily confessed to her sister, in the letter she wrote the following morning, the evening surpassed all of her expectations of impertinence, misguided condescension and foolish arrogance as would have delighted their father. She read her letter once more, hoping that she had conveyed her own appreciation of the pleasure of Lady Catherine's company.

 _Hunsford Parsonage_

 _Kent_

 _Dearest Jane,_

 _I will not bore you with further evidence of our cousin's foolishness. My letter after I first arrived has, I hope, satisfied any cravings as you might unwisely suffer in that regard. As our father was wont to say, a little of Mr. Collins' company can suffice for several days, if not longer. I have already a surfeit and have been here but a few days. But enough of Mr. Collins. Last night we were privileged to dine with our cousin's patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh._

 _After being assured by our cousin that the lady would not think less of me if i was simply dressed since she likes the distinction of rank preserved, I resisted the temptation to wear my oldest gown, and satisfied myself with that light yellow one that I bought before Christmas. It hasn't been seen by the company here and must count as new I suppose. Dressing was quite an experience. I rather thought our Mama was present as our cousin must have urged me several times to hurry my dressing since Lady Catherine does not like to be kept waiting. Poor Maria was quite discomposed which, given her lack of sense, did not portend well for the evening._

 _Our cousin waxed rapturously as we walked the half mile to Rosings about the plentitude of windows and the cost of glazing as to quite upset Sir William and overset Maria altogether. For myself, I had heard nothing of Lady Catherine to inspire awe from any extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money and rank I believed myself capable of witnessing without trepidation. Once we had arrived, our introduction was performed by Charlotte which I am assured must have shortened the time required by our cousin as those apologies and thanks were omitted which he believes so necessary._

 _Rosings is, I imagine, quite grand although I believe it gaudy and uselessly fine, meant to impress by a display of wealth with little true comfort or elegance. Sir William was so overwhelmed however that his bow was so low as to cause me concern that he might be unable to rise or indeed might fall forward, while Maria was rendered virtually senseless – perhaps an improvement although I suspect I am being too unkind – poor Maria. Lady Catherine is a tall, large woman, with strongly marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air is not conciliating, nor is her manner of receiving us such as to make us forget our inferior rank. She is not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she says is spoken in so authoritative a tone as to mark her self-importance. She does in countenance and deportment bear some resemblance to Mr. Darcy although she could benefit from his habit of silence. Lady Catherine's daughter bears no similarity in face or figure to her mother being thin, small and speaking little except to her companion, a Mrs. Jenkinson of whom there is little remarkable._

 _The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants, and all the articles of plate which our cousin had promised; and, when he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her ladyship's desire, he looked as if he felt that life could furnish nothing greater. My dear Jane, he carved, and ate, and praised with delighted alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him, and then by Sir William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever our cousin said. I wondered that Lady Catherine could bear it but she seemed most gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most gracious smiles. Lady Catherine was not disposed to allow any share of the conversation to belong to anyone else, a state which continued when we retired to the drawing room. I longed for my father. How he would have enjoyed the opportunity to gently expose the follies of our company._

 _Oh Jane! I am so glad our father supported me in refusing our cousin's offer of marriage. I could not have bourn Lady Catherine's interference in my household concerns. I can only marvel at Charlotte's ability to do so. Her ladyship enquired into Charlotte's domestic concerns familiarly and minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice as to the management of them all; told her how everything ought to be regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her even as to the care of her cows and her poultry. When not instructing Charlotte, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and to myself particularly, of whose connections she knew the least. I am, I learned a very genteel, pretty kind of girl. She asked me at different times, how many sisters I had, whether they were older or younger than myself, whether any of them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they had been educated, what carriage out father kept, and what had been our mother's maiden name?_

 _It took, I assure you, all my composure to answer these questions without becoming impertinent myself. Unfortunately my forbearance seemed only to encourage her ladyship who then began to inquire minutely into my accomplishments. She was most distressed that none of us draw, had not been taken to London to be taught by masters and that we had no governess – I admit to agreeing with her on this matter, a situation which is noteworthy only for its rarity. However when she heard that all of my sisters were 'out', she could hardly believe it and was not at all amused by my touch of impertinence when I said thought it would be very hard upon my younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and amusement because you and I may not have the means or inclination to marry early. The last born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth, as the first. And to be kept back on such a motive! I told her I thought it would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind. While I defended our family in this, I must admit that when I consider Kitty and Lydia's behaviour, I feel some agreement with her ladyship. To agree twice in one evening with her ladyship! – do not tell our father, please._

 _I will not bore you with the rest of the evening. We played casino until such time as Lady Catherine had played as long as she wished and then we were sent home – in her ladyship's carriage no less. Our journey back to the parsonage was brief but our cousin was most desirous of hearing my praises of Rosings and Lady Catherine; unfortunately, they appeared to be insufficient and he most readily assumed the burden of providing them for me._

 _You may be assured that I have spared your sensibilities by forbearing to relate much of the foolishness that I have endured. I truly envy you to be staying with our aunt and uncle. I suspect there is more sense spoken at Gracechurch Street in five minutes than would be heard in Rosings in a month._

 _Your most loving and envious sister,_

 _Elizabeth_

Having satisfied herself as to the letter, it was signed and posted that same day after which Elizabeth walked to Hunsford with Maria to investigate the shops there.

Sir William staid only a week at Hunsford; but his visit was long enough to convince him of his daughter being most comfortably settled, and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not often met with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his mornings to driving him out in his gig and showing him the country; but when he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments, and Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of her cousin by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast and dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden, or in reading and writing, and looking out of window in his own book room, which fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards. Elizabeth at first had rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer the dining parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a pleasanter aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been much less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively; and she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement.

From the drawing room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went along, and how often especially Miss De Bourgh drove by in her phaeton, which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened almost every day. She not infrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and had a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever prevailed on to get out.

Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise; and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many hours. Now and then, they were honoured with a call from her ladyship, and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work, and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement of the furniture, or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding out that Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family.

Elizabeth soon perceived that though this great lady was not in the commission of the peace for the county, she was a most active magistrate in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be quarrelsome, discontented or too poor, she sallied forth into the village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into harmony and plenty.

The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week; and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one card table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart of the first. Their other engagements were few; as the style of living of the neighbourhood in general was beyond the reach of the Collinses. This, however, was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time comfortably enough; there were half hours of pleasant conversation with Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year, that she had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity.

In this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away. Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be important. Elizabeth had heard, soon after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy was expected there in the course of a few weeks, and his coming would furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined by Lady Catherine; who talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by Miss Lucas and herself. On her own behalf Elizabeth, recognizing that she had somewhat carelessly misjudged the gentleman in the past, was resolved to develop a better understanding of him; and, if her aunt's reports of Mr. Wickham's activities had sunk his character, they had also raised Mr. Darcy's. His manner, his pride and arrogance might be as distasteful as ever, but he obviously possessed some admirable attributes and it behooved her to identify them. His reserve, his disinclination to converse with others was, she could now see, the main impediment to her efforts and to this end she thought to make a greater effort to engage him in conversation. With such a taciturn gentleman it would, she thought, require all of her patience.

His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage, for Mr. Collins was walking the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane, in order to have the earliest assurance of it; and after making his bow as the carriage turned into the park, hurried home with the great intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of his uncle, Lord —; and to the great surprise of all the party, when Mr. Collins returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen them, from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding, "I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me."

Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Mrs. Collins; and whatever might be his feelings towards her friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth curtseyed to him and mindful of her plan, immediately began speaking to him of her pleasure in visiting Kent, the grounds and the walks that she had enjoyed.

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; and his cousin, perhaps surprised to be addressed so directly by Elizabeth, responded by inquiring, with some interest, of her what she perceived as the differences between Kent and Hertfordshire. When this topic had exhausted itself he lapsed into silence leaving it to his cousin to maintain the conversation. After some minutes Mr. Darcy addressed a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs. Collins and then sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to enquire of Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual way, and after a moment's pause, added, "My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?"

She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between the Bingleys and Jane; and she thought he looked a little confused as he answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went away.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they received any invitation thither, for while there were visitors in the house they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter Sunday, almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little of either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had only seen at church.

The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined the party in Lady Catherine's drawing room. Her ladyship received them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much more than to any other person in the room.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; anything was a welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself as well as of Mr. Darcy. His eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship after a while shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not scruple to call out, "What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is."

"We are speaking of music, Madam," said he, when no longer able to avoid a reply.

"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation, if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learned, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency.

"I am very glad to hear such a good account of her," said Lady Catherine; "and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel, if she does not practise a great deal."

"I assure you, Madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice. She practises very constantly."

"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies, that no excellence in music is to be acquired, without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will never play really well, unless she practises more; and though Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house."

Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill breeding, and made no answer.

When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away from her, and moving with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte, stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said, "You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."

"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which, in fact, are not your own."

Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous of you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire - and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too - for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear."

"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly.

"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers."

"You shall hear then - but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball - and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances! I am sorry to pain you - but so it was. He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact."

"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party."

"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders."

"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction, but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers."

"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?"

"I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam, "without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble."

"I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy, "of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done."

"My fingers," said Elizabeth, "do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault - because I would not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as those of any other woman of superior execution."

Darcy smiled, and said, "You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers."

Elizabeth was set to remark that she indeed did frequently perform to strangers and was expected to do so when they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again. Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said to Darcy, "Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss, if she practised more, and could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn."

Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss De Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have been just as likely to marry her, had she been his relation. Her small smirk at this thought was observed by both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy although both believed her to be amused at their aunt's blatant promotion of their cousin.

Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, mixing with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received them with all the forbearance of civility; and at the request of the gentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship's carriage was ready to take them all home.

Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane, while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, when the door opened, and to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy only, entered the room.

He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologized for his intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to be within. They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergency recollecting when she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed, "How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London."

"Perfectly so - I thank you."

She found that she was to receive no other answer and, after a short pause, added, "I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?"

"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing."

"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But perhaps Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same principle."

"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up, as soon as any eligible purchase offers."

Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his friend; and, recollecting that she had almost promised her aunt to improve her understanding of Mr. Darcy and her resolve to improve her understanding of him, spoke thus. "Mr. Darcy, I remember when last we met, a certain gentleman, with whom you were once acquainted, was discussed. I thought you might be interested to know that he has now joined the regulars and has been sent to fight in Spain."

Mr. Darcy's surprise was obvious and for several moments he had little to say until a small smile, which Elizabeth could easily identify as satisfaction, crossed his face.

"Indeed!" said he and then, after a very brief pause, added, "May I inquire as to how this came about?"

In a few short sentences she outlined the steps followed to make known Mr. Wickham's character. For his part, the gentleman listened with great interest and was warmly congratulatory of her efforts and those of her aunt.

"I will be forever in debt to your aunt and will not hesitate to say as much to her should we meet. I must tell my cousin this news. He will be as satisfied as I."

Elizabeth found herself a little dissatisfied that he had shown no discomfort at his lack of involvement.. Unable to suppress completely the touch of censure in her voice, she noted, "The information upon which we acted was of the common sort and known apparently throughout Lambton. If it had been made known earlier in Meryton, some of our shopkeepers might have incurred fewer debts."

Elizabeth was not unhappy to observe Mr. Darcy's discomposure at her words and he was at last content to express his regrets but that circumstances were such as to prevent his involvement. This statement satisfied neither of them and Elizabeth was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him. He took the hint, and soon began with, "This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford."

"I believe she did - and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object."

"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife."

"Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding - though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her."

"It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends."

"An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."

"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance."

"I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family."

"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far."

As he spoke there was a sort of smile, which Elizabeth fancied she understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and Netherfield although an errant thought suggested that he might be referencing herself, and she blushed as she answered,

"I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expense unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys - and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance."

Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn."

Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, glancing over it, said, in a slightly colder voice, "Are you pleased with Kent?"

A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side calm and concise and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tête-à-tête surprised them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying much to anybody, went away.

"What can be the meaning of this!" said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. "My dear Eliza he must be in love with you, or he would never have called on us in this familiar way."

Elizabeth admitted that they had conversed very well for much of the time although she could discern no particular warmth on his part and it did not seem very likely, even to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot be always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended him still more; and Elizabeth was not unaware of her own satisfaction in being with him, as well as of his evident admiration of her. Not least of his attractions was a well informed mind.

But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there several minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice - a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. Elizabeth made several attempts to find topics that would engage his interest and occasionally he would even appear animated but all too frequently would return to a quiet contemplation of the conversation taking place before him.

Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her; and as she would have liked to believe this change the effect of love, and the object of that love, her friend Eliza, she sat herself seriously to work to find it out. She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.

She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend's dislike would vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.

In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the pleasantest man; he certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but, to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage in the church, and his cousin could have none at all.

More than once did Elizabeth in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. On the first such occasion she felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought; and to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him that it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! On both occasions it was not merely a few formal enquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her.

True to her resolve, she made an effort to draw him from silence since it seemed that, if left to himself, he would never say a great deal. On that first meeting, her efforts met with little success until she asked him to speak of Pemberley.

"Of what would you have me speak, Miss Bennet?"

"Of whatever gives you the most pleasure, Mr. Darcy. The grounds, the walks, views, the house. I know nothing of it and anything you share would advance my knowledge and understanding."

To this he was readily agreeable and they spent the remainder of their walk conversing about his estate and the beauties of the Derbyshire countryside, of his sister and her enjoyment of music and of some of those responsibilities which were his. With simple questions she prompted his thoughts and, without becoming too aware of what was happening, found her interest in the subject growing apace. The love and understanding of his home and of his sister that he so clearly, and perhaps inadvertently, expressed could not but improve her opinion of the gentleman and it was with a slight regret that she realized the parsonage was in sight and their walk to end.

Their second encounter was much as the first and, if she had thought their first to have been an accident, she could not do so any longer. That Mr. Darcy had deliberately sought her out with the intention of joining her walk was almost impossible to deny. That thought rendered her silent for the first few minutes as she thought about her response. Should she attempt to dissuade his interest? She could do so, she thought, with relative ease. Did she want to do so? That question was less easy to answer. Already she had come to the conclusion that her perception, her sketch of Mr. Darcy's character was flawed. There was much to admire of the man; and much to censure. If she was to dissuade him, that sketch would remain flawed and whether that was a good or a bad result she could not answer to but to be satisfied with a poorly completed effort offended her pride.

She finally sensed that Mr. Darcy was becoming a little uneasy at her continued silence and jested with him, "Do not be alarmed, Mr. Darcy. I once told you that I had such varying reports of you as to confuse me exceedingly. I remember you advising me not to attempt to sketch your character at that time since the performance would not do justice to either of us. I fear you were correct. I have resolved to attempt a new sketch and need your cooperation, sir!"

"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours, Miss Bennet. How may I assist you?"

Elizabeth laughed at his rather teasing response and the relaxation in his countenance. It almost appeared that he was smiling although she could not be sure since his face was turned slightly away from her. When he did deign to look at her, she could not help but notice the intensity of his gaze and neither could she believe that it was censorious. Quite the reverse in fact! And realized that she had most likely misunderstood his actions from the very first. This thought was so unsettling as to discompose her severely and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she replied mentioning a book that she had recently finished reading, inquiring into whether he had done so and, upon learning he had indeed read it, seeking his opinions upon it. Their discourse was lively and meandered through several books that both had read. Their opinions varied but the ability of each to express those opinions in a pleasing and intelligent fashion did not. It could not be supposed that they agreed in every particular. In fact, the opposite was very much the case, but neither was inclined to discount the contrary opinion of the other and their disagreements were as pleasurable and respectful as their agreements. Before they parted she gave him to understand that it was her preference to walk at a particular hour every morning that the weather would allow and, while not actively seeking company, she was far from averse to enjoying it.

Once returned to the parsonage, Elizabeth knew she could not put off any longer a careful consideration of Mr. Darcy. His attentions were, she could now see, quite clear. It was impossible to suppose that he had met with her twice on her walks by accident. She could not be sure of his intent. Was he thinking of offering for her? Or was this the casual interest of a gentleman with little other activities to engage him. If it had been Colonel Fitzwilliam, she might believe it to be so since his manner was invariably genial but Mr. Darcy had never, to her knowledge, behaved so. His amiability these last few days was beyond anything she had previously encountered and indeed she had not thought it possible of him. That he was intelligent and possessed of a well informed mind she had early recognized; that he would be willing to engage her with it was unexpected and, if she had been previously disposed to think of him as condescending when he did so, she could not now detect any such attitude in his manner to her.

He was, she now knew, a very complex man. Of his pride and his disdain for those not of his close acquaintance she had ample evidence and could not approve. That he objected to her family, its behaviour and the poverty of its connections she could well believe; and, if she agreed with him that her family was all too eager to display its impropriety, it was not something that she could control nor would she deny her attachment to them because of it. His failure, and she could not conceive of a better description, to act against Mr. Wickham appeared to show clearly his disdain for her neighbours by not preventing or limiting the harm he inflicted on them. That he would not act to protect her sisters from what she believed to be a practiced seducer suggested that his approbation extended only to her who, since he believed her to recognize Mr. Wickham's nature, to be in no danger. And yet when pressed to justify his lack of action, he had appeared somewhat embarrassed but not so much as to offer a reason for his actions. While she could believe his motives derived solely from disdain, she believed him to be an honourable man and such actions would seem contrary to his character. Her frustration at the contradiction was great indeed but it was not a subject she felt ready to canvas him for an answer.

The manner of his attentions to her were also a puzzle. He had paid her little attention in Hertfordshire although his gaze could now be seen as an indication of his interest rather than derision. However, apart from asking her to dance at the Netherfield Ball, he had shown little interest. In fact, quite the reverse on many occasions – she had sat with him in the Netherfield library for a full half hour without him speaking anything but the barest civilities. And then, he had taken his leave of Hertfordshire, without warning – as though he could not depart quickly enough for his liking. He had been at Rosings a week - during which the Colonel called at the parsonage several times - without visiting. Even now, it took some effort on her part to engage his interest in conversation. If she had not made the effort, she thought they might complete the whole walk with little more than a dozen words exchanged.

Of her own feeling she was equally uncertain. That she no longer despised him as she once did, she could accept. In learning more of his character, his good qualities were more apparent; however, she was unsure if she actually liked him. Those characteristics of prideful arrogance and disdain could not recommend him to her. Would he offer for her? She rather thought it unlikely. Not as impossible as she once believed but certainly unlikely, very unlikely. Would she accept such an offer? She could not see how that would be possible. Her own experience of marital felicity was not one she wished to emulate. Her father's behaviour toward her mother was abhorrent to her. Attracted to a woman of beauty but mean intelligence, his manner towards her revealed a degree of contempt that she could not wish to experience from her husband. Given Mr. Darcy's nature, could she believe that his affection for her would long survive in the face of his disdain for the poverty of her connections? The wealth and status that would accompany such a marriage would be poor compensation for a lifetime of misery that would ensue if such were the case. No, she did not believe he would offer for her but, if he did, could she allow herself to accept? Prudent she was willing to be; but to accept in the knowledge that she would be miserable was not prudence but mercenary and she thought too well of herself to be willing to endure such a life. She smiled to herself at the thought of her mother's reaction should she learn of Mr. Darcy's attentions and her daughter's unwillingness to accept an offer of marriage should it be made. Her lamentations would reached new heights and Elizabeth suspected she would have to flee to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner for relief and her stay there would be of no short duration.

Armed with the knowledge of her habit of walking at a regular time, Mr. Darcy became a frequent companion and their comfort with each other increased apace, albeit, slowly. Their conversations flowed a little more freely and Mr. Darcy was, as far as she could determine, more open in his manner. Certainly he was an engaging participant and it their conversations were, for the most part, light and insubstantial, they also proved convivial. Not all their conversations were lighthearted and she was to tease him on more than one occasion about his behaviour in Hertfordshire. Once they had been discussing Bingley's amiability and Elizabeth had cause to think of Darcy's behaviour. She forced herself to consider her next words carefully, since he could easily be offended by them. After a few moments, she felt she had to proceed - the issue would not disappear after all – and said in as neutral a tone as possible as she probed, "Are you aware of how you were viewed in Hertfordshire?"

"I think I am now although I truly gave it very little consideration at the time."

"Are you aware that your manner led them and myself to believe that you felt us as unworthy of your attention or consideration? That we were beneath your notice perhaps?"

Under her hand she could feel his arm tensing and saw a severe cast come over his countenance as he mastered his emotions. He also strove to match her dispassionate tones as he replied, "I have lately forced myself, if you will, to reconsider the whole of my time there. Was it really so dreadful?"

"Yes. They were prepared to welcome you into their homes and did so. It seemed to them, and myself, the expression of your countenance gave us all to believe that you found no pleasure in our company and that it was most distasteful. You made no effort to hide your opinion of all of us."

"My recollections of my behaviour have grown only more unhappy, Miss Bennet, I assure you." His sombre mien remained for much of that walk despite her efforts to lighten the mood once more; and if he did not appear the following day, he did join her a day later his mood strangely altered and imbued, she thought, with an increased desire to be pleasing and attentive. That she had felt the loss of his company on that day, she admitted to herself and wondered at such a reaction. Could her opinion of the gentleman be changing?

It struck her in the course of their most recent rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions - about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings, and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. If she had not discerned his interest in her, she might well have believed him to have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts and might have supposed, if he meant anything, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. However her responses to his inquiries, which she realized were not disconnected at all, were composed. She admitted to an appreciation of Hunsford insofar as the walks were concerned, to pleasure in her friend's company, the opportunity to make a new acquaintance in the Colonel and to improve an acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. Left unsaid was the lack of any pleasure to be found in the company of Mr. Collins or in his aunt, Lady Catherine. Of the happiness of the Collinses, she was reluctant to say much other than to articulate, with some caution – fearful of bringing on those addresses which she thought he might harbour -, her belief that a marriage not based on mutual esteem and respect would be distasteful to herself and, with a cautious glance at Mr. Darcy, to her sister Jane. Of the possibility of visiting Rosings she was not prepared to say much other than to admit of its possibility although she believed it unlikely that she would visit her friend again for several years.

It distressed her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage. Charlotte was not so engaged in her household duties as to be unaware of her friend's discomposure and followed her as she mounted the stairs to her room. Asking for and receiving permission to enter she found Elizabeth ensconced in the armchair by her window, wrapped in a light blanket – while spring was upon the land, the days remained cool and the parsonage far from overheated. Elizabeth smiled and raised her eyebrow in the questioning look that her friend had come to know so very well.

"It seemed to me, Eliza, that you were…discomposed when you came back from your walk. Did something happen?"

Elizabeth was silent for several minutes wondering if she could or should seek counsel from her friend. If Jane were here, she might well reveal her thoughts. Charlotte, however, had obligations which might make such confidences unwelcome and harmful to Elizabeth's interests. Finally, she decided to see how willing Charlotte might be to preserve her confidences.

"Charlotte, I have that which I would talk with you about but would have to be kept secret from everyone, including your husband and your family. I will not burden you with them if such a pledge is…impossible for you to give."

Elizabeth could see her friend's face grow increasingly thoughtful. After a minute or so Charlotte asked, "How long would I have to conceal this information?"

Elizabeth considered her response, "I would think no longer than my stay here. Once I leave, I believe the need for secrecy will be gone." And watched as her friend deliberated for several minutes before responding.

"Very well Eliza. I will honour your confidences until you leave." She laughed, "Now what has happened? Has Mr. Darcy made you an offer of marriage?"

Elizabeth could not conceal her surprise saying, "No! No he has not…but I fear he might well do so."

Charlotte's amazement could not be hidden and she made little effort to do so but it quickly became apparent that it was compounded of equal parts of surprise that events had progressed to the point where her friend might expect an offer and that she 'feared' it being made. It was to the latter that she responded, "Fear, Eliza! I am astounded that you would say as much!" Looking at Elizabeth more closely, she blurted, "You are not thinking of refusing him. Surely not! You could not be so foolish!"

Elizabeth grimaced, "I had rather expected such a response from you Charlotte. And yes, I do not see how I can accept him." She was inclined to expand on her thoughts but was prevented from doing so by her friend's interjection, "Eliza, you must listen to me. I know you disagreed with my accepting the offer from Mr. Collins. That we do not think alike on matters of marriage…well, we have expressed our differing thoughts too frequently for me to wish or need to repeat them again. But there are several…thoughts, no perhaps considerations that you must think on. Will you listen and promise to give them some thought? You have extracted a promise of secrecy from me which I have given. From you I would ask a promise of listening to my thoughts and for you to consider them carefully. Will you do this?"

At her friend's slow nod, Charlotte continued, "First and most obvious, Mr. Darcy is not Mr. Collins. I know and understand why you could not accept the offer from Mr. Collins. You would have done very poorly under the eye of Lady Catherine. She has tested even my patience. Yours - I shudder to consider. Mr. Darcy is not a foolish man, he is not only respectable but intelligent and responsible. Consider if you will that he has undertaken the responsibility of raising a sister who was but ten or eleven when he was made her guardian at her father's death. He did so at the age of two-and-twenty when most young men are engaged in frivolous activities and while having to take on the responsibilities of a great estate. You say he is proud but surely he has reason to be so given the responsibilities he must discharge. I would also point out that he has visited his aunt regularly, whose company is obviously somewhat distasteful to him and, in doing so, exposes himself to her presumptions and dictates – not that I think he will be bound by them but he could easily avoid them altogether. That he does not do so speaks well for his sense of responsibility. I might add that his manner in no way reflects that of his aunt. He has been nothing but civil to me and my husband and to you as well during his stay."

Charlotte paused to collect her thoughts and, before Elizabeth could think to respond, continued, "I would have you think further on this, Elizabeth. I am eight-and-twenty and had to accept an offer from a man like Mr. Collins in order to secure a home and security. You are twenty and Jane, I think, three-and-twenty and still unmarried despite being one of the most beautiful women in Hertfordshire."

Elizabeth could not help exclaiming, "She would be married now if it were not for the efforts of Mr. Bingley's sisters and friend!"

"Perhaps…and perhaps not! I know you are convinced that Mr. Bingley was persuaded against an attachment but that speaks poorly for either the strength of his attachment or his resolve or both, does it not?"

Elizabeth could see her friend waiting for her to acknowledge the truth of her words and, remembering her aunt's similar opinion, assented reluctantly – a fact which Charlotte acknowledged with a small smile.

"My point, Eliza, is that we have all reached an age where we should or could have been married – even you. The reason we are not is one that we must accept. The number of men with whom we can consider an attachment is limited and we, none of us, have the portions to attract decent men in need of such to support a wife. You have no reason to concern yourself now, Lizzy, but in five years will you be so sanguine? Can you afford to be? I know you despair of your mother's efforts to have you married but you must admit the reality of your situation. If her efforts are somewhat misguided, the purpose should not be disparaged." Charlotte thought of the entail problem and chose to ignore it. Her friend could easily understand that it inspired much of her mother's efforts.

Sounds from below intruded on their consciousness and both realized that the time that could be spared for a confidential talk had ended. As Charlotte rose she offered one last plea, "I must attended below. I will say no more unless you wish to talk further. I will only ask that you honour my request and take…give careful consideration to any response you make to an offer from Mr. Darcy, should he make one."

Receiving Elizabeth's agreement, she quit the room leaving Elizabeth to begin the arduous task of trying to resolve her uncertainties in regards to Mr. Darcy. This task was to absorb her for much of the remainder of that day and the next and she was pleased to not have her attention distracted by visitors to the parsonage. If her distraction was of concern to the others it was not apparent and she was sure that Mr. Collins was completely insensible to the fact. When she finally closed in her eyes the next night she had, for the most part, arrived at a decision.


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth was engaged one day, as she walked, in re-perusing Jane's last letter, and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not written in spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on looking up, that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting away the letter immediately and forcing a smile, she said, "I did not know before that you ever walked this way."

"I have been making the tour of the Park," he replied, "as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much further?"

"No, I should have turned in a moment."

And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage together.

"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" said she.

"Yes - if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases."

"And, if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy." As Elizabeth thought further on the Colonel's words she wondered at the reason for Darcy having delayed his departure. Certainly he had said nothing to her; nor had he seemed to be overly engaged in estate matters since he had walked with her very frequently. Could he have postponed that departure in order to do so? It was unfortunately a question that only one person could answer but it was also one she could not ask. Her attention was reclaimed by Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"He likes to have his own way very well," he replied. "But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence."

"In my opinion, the younger son of an Earl can know very little of either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"

"These are home questions - and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like."

"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do."

"Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money."

"Is this," thought Elizabeth, "meant for me?" and she coloured at the thought he might feel it necessary to warn her away – an unnecessary tactic since she had formed no attachment to him; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, "And pray, what is the usual price of an Earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds."

He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed, she soon afterwards said, "I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps his sister does as well for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her."

"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an advantage which he must divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy."

"Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way."

As she spoke, she observed him looking at her earnestly, and the manner in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other got pretty near the truth. She directly replied, "You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them."

"I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentleman-like man - he is a great friend of Darcy's."

"Oh! yes," said Elizabeth drily, "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."

"Care of him! - Yes, I really believe Darcy does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture."

"What is it you mean?"

"It is a circumstance which Darcy, of course, would not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an unpleasant thing."

"You may depend upon my not mentioning it."

"And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be Bingley. What he told me was merely this; that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer."

"Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?"

"I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady."

"And what arts did he use to separate them?"

"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said Fitzwilliam smiling. "He only told me what I have now told you."

Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful.

"I am thinking of what you have been telling me," said she. "Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?"

"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?"

"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy." "But," she continued, recollecting herself, "as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case."

"That is not an unnatural surmise," said Fitzwilliam, "but it is lessening the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly."

This was spoken jestingly, but it appeared to her so just a picture of Mr. Darcy that she would not trust herself with an answer; and, therefore, abruptly changing the conversation, talked on indifferent matters till they reached the parsonage. There, shut into her own room as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There could not exist in the world two men over whom Mr. Darcy could have such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane, she had never doubted; but she had always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangement of them. Now it must appear that he had an equal or greater share of the responsibility. That his opinion might well be held in greater esteem by Mr. Bingley than his sisters, she could easily believe and, if so, he was the cause, his pride and caprice were the principal cause, of all that Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.

"There were some very strong objections against the lady," were Colonel Fitzwilliam's words, and these strong objections probably were, her having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in business in London.

"To Jane herself," she exclaimed, "there could be no possibility of objection. All loveliness and goodness as she is! Her understanding excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither could anything be urged against my father, who, though with some peculiarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain."

When she thought of her mother, indeed, her confidence gave way a little, but she would not allow that any objections there had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of importance in his friend's connections, than from their want of sense. The more she considered the matter, the greater her agitation until finally she realized that she was letting her emotions, her anger to be precise, spiral out of her control and oversetting all her carefully ordered reasoning. Forcing herself towards calmness, she gradually mastered that anger; and, once able to consider the matter in a less fraught manner, she could see that she was attributing to Mr. Darcy, the worst possible motives. If nothing else, she had come to realize that he was an honourable man. If two gentlemen such as Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam considered him to be so, then she could not gainsay them. If he had opposed the attachment between her sister and Mr. Bingley, she owed it to herself to find out the truth behind that opposition.

When she considered the matter in light of her previous resolutions, she could not see that there was a reason to change them. She had already come to believe that Mr. Bingley must accept the majority of the responsibility for his decision to remain away from Hertfordshire. His friends and relations could advise but upon him lay the responsibility for his actions. Her distress at the moment was a matter of the heart, not the mind. Her opinion of Mr. Darcy had improved appreciably over the last se'nnight but she also realized that her feelings were too raw, too exposed at the moment for her to contemplate receiving an offer from Mr. Darcy and while she could have wished to avoid his company altogether tonight, being in his company amongst a larger group was her best assurance of avoiding a private interview. Not even Mr. Darcy would attempt a proposal in the company of his aunt nor would she, Elizabeth, agree to a private talk tonight. As a consequence she was determined to attend her cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Upon their departure, Mrs. Collins, seeing that she was discomposed encouraged her husband and sister to walk ahead of herself and Elizabeth so as to afford her a few private minutes with her friend.

"Is there a problem, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth's initial reluctance to reveal the cause of her problem did not last beyond the recognition that Charlotte already knew most of the particulars and that the Colonel's revelation was not totally unexpected. "Colonel Fitzwilliam revealed – without knowing he did so – that Mr. Darcy was the principal cause of separating Mr. Bingley from Jane."

Charlotte did not seem overly impressed, "I had always believed him involved, to be sure. Mr. Bingley obviously held his opinions in high regard. Should this have any particular significance now? Surely you were not surprised?"

"I believe I held his sisters to the major share of the blame. I do not know if it changes anything but to treat Mr. Darcy with civility tonight will be difficult I fear."

"I have no fear of your behaviour, Lizzy." Charlotte smiled, "Perhaps you should tease him a little more tonight. That will surely restore your humour and upset his."

Elizabeth smiled back, suddenly feeling better and looking forward if such were possible to the evening before her. "I believe I shall, Charlotte! I believe I shall! And I have just the subject to tease him on." If there was a trace of glee in the tone of her voice, Charlotte pretended she had not heard. She was confident that Elizabeth inherent kindness would not allow her to be malicious.

Their time spent at Rosings went much like previous occasions with Lady Catherine dominating the conversation and requiring that Darcy attend her and her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam, as was his usual practice, quickly claimed, a seat beside her and they were soon conversing as easily as ever. To her surprise, Darcy, seeing his aunt fully engaged in lecturing Mrs. Collins about her menus, rose and came to sit in the chair next to Elizabeth who, seeing her opportunity to tease, seized it.

"Shall I play for you, gentlemen?"

Receiving their assent and, before either could offer to do so, she asked Darcy to turn the pages for her; and, turning to Colonel Fitzwilliam, said, "I believe, sir, that you will be able to appreciate the music quite well from your present seat."

The Colonel, who had made as though to rise, realized that she wished to speak privately to Darcy, immediately relaxed back into his chair, nodding agreement and waved his hand for them to proceed. Elizabeth and Darcy moved to the pianoforte and Elizabeth, selecting a piece with which she was quite familiar, began to play. That Darcy was puzzled by her actions was evident and she resolved to allow him to remain so for several minutes before beginning, taking care to pitch her voice so as not to be audible to anyone else.

"I understand, Mr. Darcy, that you are to be congratulated."

"I am! For what pray tell?"

"I have been given to understand that you can take pleasure in affording a friend such advice as to spare him an unfortunate attachment. I am happy for your success and I hope your friend is happy with the result. My own efforts do not admit of such a happy conclusion. You see I assured my sister that a young man returned her affections and gave her leave to fall in love with him which she was most pleased to do. Unfortunately, it seems my assurances were in error and she was been left with disappointed hopes and a damaged heart when he left, never to return.

While Elizabeth's tone was light, she could not altogether help injecting a tartness to her tone and it was with no little satisfaction that she observed the sudden pallor of Darcy's countenance but his haughty mask descended quickly over his face and they sat in an uncomfortable silence for several moments before he slowly started to turn and look at the Colonel. Elizabeth quickly said, "Do not blame your cousin. He could not have known."

Darcy returned his gaze to her, turning a page almost by rote. She marvelled that he was following the music closely enough to have done so at the correct interval. Elizabeth continued.

"I would be quite interested in your methods of persuading your friend. Was the young lady deficient in understanding? Or in behaviour? With a small dowry perhaps? Or may it have been a want of connections? What would be those considerations to which one should attach the most importance? I ask only that I might be more successful in the future."

Darcy looked as though he might wish himself anywhere else but did not refuse her implicit challenge.

"In the case of my friend, the young lady was everything that was proper, did not lack understanding to my knowledge and was quite beautiful."

"And yet she was unsuitable? There were objections to the lady?"

"I could not detect any sign of affection for my friend and advised him accordingly. He is a kindly man with an affectionate nature and I would not wish him in a marriage where there was an inequality of affections."

"And you were the judge of her affections?"

"I was. I observed her very carefully at a dance and her manner was open, cheerful and as engaging as ever but without any symptom of peculiar regard. It appeared to me that while she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment."

Her own temper was aroused but little and while she had no objections to teasing Darcy, she did not want to distress him unduly. Moreover she could remember quite clearly Charlotte's comments about Jane hiding her feelings from all but her closest confidantes. So she simply replied, "Your concerns have merit, Mr. Darcy. I do hope that you have judged the matter correctly, although it may be that you have not. As one who is known for a reserved character, I would expect that you can readily ascertain such in others. But perhaps not. My sister is one such and I would expect only her closest acquaintances can detect her feelings."

Darcy looked thoughtful, "Truly? I…that bears thinking on, I admit."

"I trust Mr. Darcy, that I have not distressed you greatly. While I was, I admit, quite angry at Mr. Bingley's sisters and yourself for your efforts to separate him from my sister, I have since come to realize that the blame must rest largely with Mr. Bingley himself. His want of resolution is at the heart of the matter. Perhaps he is a most inconstant lover."

Elizabeth played for a few more minutes when her attention was diverted from the music by Darcy saying, "Are you planning to walk tomorrow morning, Miss Bennet?"

"Indeed, should the weather permit me to do so."

"Perhaps, if you are agreeable, I could join you on your walk once more?"

Elizabeth played for several minutes without answering before replying, "That would be agreeable, Mr. Darcy. At eight then. "

Their privacy was interrupted by the approach of Colonel Fitzwilliam who suggested to Darcy that their cousin Anne looked to be in need of his attention. Once Darcy had departed, the Colonel claimed his spot beside Elizabeth saying, "I believed it best to disturb your tete-a-tete since my aunt appeared to be a little concerned about Darcy's attentions to you."

Elizabeth smiled and nodded, continuing to play and the Colonel continued, "It appears that I was unknowingly rather improper today during our walk in confessing matters of a private nature. Please accept my apologies for distressing you."

"I do not hold you accountable for your cousin's action, Colonel, but will accept your apology in the spirit that it was offered."

"I would hope that my betrayal of my cousin's confidences has not lowered him in your eyes."

"You need not fear. He stands as high as he ever did."

This ambiguous statement appeared to appease the Colonel and Elizabeth continued to play for a further quarter hour until the carriage was called to return them all to the parsonage. When she retired to her room later that evening, Elizabeth had time to reflect on her brief encounter with Darcy that evening. She recalled his words 'It appeared to me that she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment'. Was this the impediment, his 'strong objection'. Surely not! Could he not see Jane's affections? But then Elizabeth remembered Charlotte's comment that Jane's feelings were not readily or easily seen by those not closely familiar with her – and Darcy certainly was not a close acquaintance. But surely Mr. Bingley was not in doubt. But if one is to believe Mr. Darcy, he apparently was. How was that possible? Since there was no means of addressing that question, she forced herself to read until sleep almost overtook her. Blowing out her candle and laying down, it took but a few minutes for sleep to claim her.

Elizabeth woke the next morning surprisingly refreshed. Her sleep had come easy – why, she was not sure since the day could prove to be exciting - no, that was not quite the word for which she was searching. Portentous perhaps. Yes that was more apt. Dressing quickly, she thought to walk out and arrive at the grove early to afford herself time to gather her composure. She could not be sure, of course, but it seemed possible that Mr. Darcy would offer to court or, possibly, wed her. The latter still seemed quite unlikely.

Grabbing two scones from the kitchen table and bestowing a brief smile of the cook, who had become quite accustomed to her early morning departures, she slipped out the door as quietly as possible. She really had no fear that Mr. Collins would be awake so early but she had no desire to risk any ill-conceived efforts on his part to curtail or prevent her walk. The day promised to be rather warm for the time of year and she noted with pleasure that the trees and shrubs had assumed their full foliage with that fresh green look that marks springtime. It was her favourite time of the year – everything fresh and clean. It was the time of hopes and hers were growing quite favourably.

As she walked towards the grove her mind replayed those conclusions, and the thoughts that underlay them, which had consumed her attention for the past days. The inescapable conclusion that Darcy held her in considerable esteem was evidenced in his looks which she had once mistakenly assumed as disdainful; by his requests for her to dance; and by his recent manner towards her. If such was the case, her earlier opinion of his dislike - founded on that very first insult - must be cast aside. Whatever the reason for that insult, she could no longer hold it against him since he had so very clearly rendered it meaningless. The most puzzling aspect was the inconstancy of his attentions. If she had, in retrospect, identified his interest as beginning during her stay at Netherfield – and possibly earlier – why had he made no attempt to converse with her or call on her while there? Why had he left and made no effort to see her in the almost half year afterwards? Why, when he arrived at Rosings, had his attentions been so slight for the first week or so and then more consistent? What did such inconstancy say with respect to the constancy of his affections now?

His actions against Wickham were another matter. She was hardly satisfied with his refusal to be involved but was it a matter of disdain for the people of Meryton - of thinking them below his notice and therefore his concern; or was there a more legitimate reason which would not allow him to act. That was something to be discovered although she saw no immediate need to do so. But she would have an answer from him eventually.

His manner throughout his stay in Hertfordshire had not recommended him to her. He gave offence to almost everyone outside his party by his incivility, arrogance and appearance of disdain. That Wickham's tale was so readily believed attested to the degree of disapprobation he had incurred everywhere. Only Jane and herself, of all of Meryton, had spoke on his behalf and even her support had been mainly because she distrusted Wickham's account. Nevertheless, as his recent efforts also attested, he could be amiable should he choose to be so. That extracting such behaviour had required a substantial effort on her part was puzzling. He was more reserved, more reticent than anyone she had previously known and yet had shown pleasure in their talks. Both Bingley and the Colonel had affirmed that he was quite different amongst his close acquaintances. Was that because they were of his station in life or because he was simply comfortable in their presence? She simply could not tell which, with any certainty, was the reason; and she was not inclined to risk her future by guessing on such a matter.

Finally, there was the matter of her sister and Mr. Bingley; and there she could only hope that Mr. Darcy had credited her statement of the previous evening. She could not secure her own happiness at the expense of her sister's but thought that such would be unnecessary in any event. That he had acted to separate them was irrefutable and he had not tried to deny it – which was wise of him. If Darcy had believed Jane to be indifferent, which she could not discount, how much was that opinion biased by his disapproval of her connections and the impropriety of her family? His disgust with such impropriety was, once again, quite obvious. Almost every encounter with her mother and younger sisters had earned from him scowls of disapproval. Not that she could truly blame him as the unhappy defects of her family were a subject of heavy chagrin. They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine and Lydia; but while they were supported by their mother's indulgence, what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited, irritable, and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there forever. As she considered this anew, she realized that her distress and embarrassment had somewhat inured her to their impropriety and she could readily understand how dismaying it would be to one not used to it. That her father let such behaviour tarnish his family's reputation spoke poorly of him despite his other fine qualities. In this she thought that Mr. Darcy would be someone to respect. His attentiveness to his sister and his responsibilities to managing an estate spoke well of him. She little doubted that he would not tolerate any child of his behaving in the manner of Kitty or Lydia.

As she approached the grove, she was surprised to see Darcy sitting on a bench with a horse tied to a small tree and happily grazing. His smile was warm but, she thought, a little apprehensive.

"I am surprised to see you so early, Mr. Darcy. I quite thought to have a few minutes to enjoy the beauty of the morning before you apprised me of the reason for this meeting."

Darcy seemed somewhat embarrassed, "My aunt had asked me last night to attend her after breakfast for some reason which she would not vouchsafe to me. I was concerned that she may have suspected a meeting between us and thought to leave before she awoke. I admit to a deception and rode off in the opposite direction in the hopes of allaying such suspicions. I came here by the back roads and trails."

Elizabeth grew thoughtful and considered the possible reaction of Lady Catherine should Darcy seek to court her. It would most likely not be pleasant given that lady's oft expressed hopes for a match between her daughter and Mr. Darcy. Her thoughts were brought back to her surroundings when Darcy continued, "I am sorry to deprive you of your expected enjoyment of solitude and would willingly sit with you and share the pleasure if I may."

Elizabeth nodded in acceptance and, seating herself beside, gave herself over to the prospect before her. She sensed his presence; his tension was palatable and she deliberately forced herself into a calmness that she hoped was communicated to him. Whether it was as a result of her efforts or by his own she knew not but after some few minutes, he began to relax. After a quarter hour of silence broken only by the soft snuffling noises from the horse and the early morning calls of the birds, she felt ready to begin. That he would await her signal, she understood and now felt herself ready to face whatever might arise.

"Mr. Darcy, we meet at your request. I must assume you have some purpose, sir."

Darcy's nervousness had immediately returned and he stood, moved off some five yards and began to pace in front of her. His opening words were not overly surprising since she had expected that he would address the issue of her sister and Mr. Bingley at some point this morning. That he chose to do so immediately met with her approval. She wanted to hear his reasons for his actions.

"May I ask of you two things; first that you let me relate my actions without interruption which I fear would distract me from my purpose, and, second, that you accept my apologies in advance if anything I say offends you. I can assure you that such is not my intention – I no longer hold some of those feelings which dictated my actions then but must relate them if my actions are to be understood."

Receiving Elizabeth's reluctant acquiescence, he began. "I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister to any other young woman in the country but it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment. I had often seen him in love before you see. At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. Sir William spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched. Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not return them to any appreciable extent. If you have not been mistaken here, I must have been in error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error, to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched. - That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is certain, - but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason."

He cast a glance at Elizabeth as he related the last and, seeing no sign of condemnation, continued, "In respect of the possible marriage, my objection in regard to the situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father. - Pardon me. - It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say further that, from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. I was afraid, you must understand, that your sister would not be allowed by her mother to refuse an offer should it be made. Your mother spoke quite firmly about her expectations in my hearing. I am sure you remember it as well."

He paused and resolutely refusing to look at her – as though he feared the expression on her face – he continued, "Bingley left Netherfield for London, on the day following with the design of soon returning. His sisters' uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered; and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in London which we did. There I readily undertook to point out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I described, and enforced them earnestly. But I do not suppose that this remonstrance would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been seconded by my assurance of your sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgment than on his own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment. It was his modesty not his inconstancy which betrayed him in this instance and for that I must assume responsibility. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I concealed from him your sister's being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. I acted so because I believed that his regard for your sister did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. This concealment, this disguise, I must now consider beneath me. I have no other apology to offer other than I believed myself to be acting in the best interests of my friend. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I had not, until now, learned to condemn them."

Elizabeth did not deign to answer at once. He had not revealed anything that she had not already surmised and, if the opinions expressed in regards of her family were painful, were they anything more than she had already acknowledge herself? She could see that he expected a response and, perhaps, expected her to be offended – which she was in truth since no one wished to hear their family disparaged – but confined herself to a simple and quiet question, "Now that you know the true state of my sisters feelings, what do you intend?"

"I have given some thought on this last night. It is not that I doubt your word but I cannot, of my own knowledge, say that your sister's regard for Bingley is equal to his for her. I can and will advise him that I have reason to believe my observations, my opinion if you will, to have been in error and that he should seek, of his own volition, to determine your sister's affections."

Elizabeth nodded slowly and thoughtfully, "That will suffice. I believe if left to themselves they will quickly come to an agreement. I am also glad to hear you absolve your friend of the charge of inconstancy." She paused for a few moments before saying, "Mr. Darcy, there is one matter that remains between us on which I wish you to explain. That is the matter of Mr. Wickham. You have twice made rather rather cryptic comments about matters which would preclude your taking any action against him. As a result, my sisters and friends might have been at risk and certainly his debts in Meryton could have been reduced had his nature been discovered earlier. At first I was inclined to believe that it was a reflection of your disdain for us – that we were not worthy of your attention. Now I suspect that other reasons may exist. Do I have the right of it, sir?"

The angry look that transfixed Darcy's face was gone in seconds, replaced by a stern, cold appearance; he straightened his shoulders, sighed and, gradually relaxing, appeared to have come to a decision as if prepared to perform a most distasteful duty.

"Miss Bennet, I do not know for a certainty what story Wickham told to my discredit in Meryton. I can therefore only lay before you my history with him. He is the son of a very estimable man who was my father's steward for many years and who had the misfortune to marry a spendthrift wife who managed to waste much of her husband's income. My father, to recognize the contributions of his steward, stood as godfather to his son and, since he lacked the means to do so, undertook to afford Mr. Wickham a gentleman's education at school and university, and to ensure that he had the means to gain decent employment. To this end, at his death, my father left Mr. Wickham a bequest of one thousand pounds and instructed that, since my father hoped he would take orders, a living was to be his when it became vacant. My father died some five years ago and Mr. Wickham's father did likewise a few months later. Mr. Wickham received the bequest following my father's death and about six months later approached me once more to state that he had decided against taking orders and wished to study law instead but that he lacked the funds to do so and requested to be compensated in lieu of the living promised to him. I was more than willing to accede to this request since I knew that he should never be a clergyman – I had observed closely his licentious behaviour, his want of principle at school and university – and, after some negotiation, a sum of three thousand pounds was agreed upon as compensation. Wickham signed a document releasing all claims to the living, received his monies and disappeared – into London I believed although I had no personal knowledge or interest in his activities.

I saw nothing of him for three years until the living became open upon the retirement of the rector and shortly thereafter I received a letter from Wickham stating that the study of law had proven unprofitable - if indeed he had studied at all – and his situation quite dire, of which I had no doubt, and stated his intention to take orders and to be given the living as requested by my father. You can, under the circumstances, not censure me for refusing his request. His anger and distress at this decision were in proportion to his circumstances which were extremely poor. I received several abusive letters and I do not doubt he was equally unkind when speaking of me to others. I heard nothing of him until last summer when he intruded quite painfully once more upon my family. I trust to your secrecy in what I am about to relate."

At her nod, he continued, "My sister who is some ten years my junior had travelled to Ramsgate accompanied by her companion in whom we – Colonel Fitzwilliam and I – were badly misled. The lady was known to Mr. Wickham and we suspect the whole of the plan to travel to Ramsgate was by her instigation. There Mr. Wickham did go and, over the course of several weeks, persuaded my sister, who had only fond childhood memories of Mr. Wickham, to believe herself in love with him and to agree to an elopement."

He paused as Elizabeth gasped and then nodded, "Yes, an elopement. She was but fifteen which must be her excuse." After a pause of several moments, he said, "Fortunately, I had cause to travel to Ramsgate wishing to surprise my sister by a visit and arrived two days before the elopement was to take place. Georgiana revealed all to me and I am sure you can understand my distress. Mrs. Younge, the companion, was released from service and Wickham left Ramsgate that very day. While undoubtedly my sisters dowry was the main reason for his efforts, I also believe he hoped to avenge himself on me."

"Your sister, she is well?"

"She has taken some time to recover. Her confidence, her assurance has been harmed. She was a shy creature to begin with and has become slightly more so although I have seen signs that she is improving."

While Elizabeth was still considering what had been revealed, Darcy claimed her attention once more.

"My primary concern or fear at the time and for many months afterwards was that news of this…event did not become generally known since it would most seriously damage her future marriage prospects and the Darcy name. You questioned my motives for concealing Mr. Wickham's character. That was of the foremost importance. I will also admit that I have, over the past few years, developed a habit of privacy and, in this instance, have believed that my character was the best rebuttal of Mr. Wickham's slanders. This latter decision I have come to regard as flawed. My concern for privacy has hid my character from most of the world. I have come to regret my lack of action in Hertfordshire but at the time I was unable to see how I could risk exposing Georgiana's mistake. Your actions and those of your aunt amply prove the fallacy of my decision but again I can only plead an excess of concern for my sister. That is my defence, Miss Bennet. It was not my finest moment and I am most acutely aware that I could have behaved more honourably."

Elizabeth could only nod slowly, "I am not now inclined to judge you too harshly on the matter, Mr. Darcy. I can agree that it was a mistake but one done to protect someone very dear to you and that I can never censure."

A silence fell which lasted for several minutes. Elizabeth felt no desire to bring it to an end. Mr. Darcy had sought the interview and upon him rested the responsibility for initiating any discussion. On this matter, he would receive no assistance from her. At last, he was moved to speak, "Miss Bennet, I spent several hours last night attempting to order my thoughts and wishes, to find some elegant words and phrases to express my desires and intentions. I am glad I did so because I fear that if I had not, I would have blurted out that which would have offended you greatly. Those sentiments which I confessed when relating my actions in separating your sister from my friend, I have put aside as they do not bear on my desires. I must speak plainly therefore to ensure that you have no doubt of my meaning, my intentions. But before I speak of these, I have another confession I must make."

Elizabeth at once realized he was going to make her an offer; but what could he possibly have to confess? She made no effort to mask her surprise but did afford him a nod to encourage him to proceed.

He was silent for several minutes, his haughty look, which she was coming to believe, was as much a reflection of his reserve as his pride and arrogance, replaced by one more thoughtful and abstracted.

"I quite tried to forget you, you know. I left Netherfield and, if one reason was to protect my friend, I was equally fleeing you. I did not wish to allow my attraction, my interest to grow. I felt I must put you behind me and that your absence would allow me to forget. It did not. I tried to bury myself in work but I could not but think of you. I tried to distract myself in society, balls, dinners, theatre – but to no avail. Every woman I met was compared to you and found wanting. And then I came to Rosings and there you were also. For a week I tried to deny my interest but could not. I knew I was lost when I visited the parsonage and found you alone. And when I began to join you on your walks, I was lost altogether. I could no longer deny my feelings. It was, I believe, your efforts to converse with me that made me most aware of you and when I began, I believe, to fully appreciate your character. And as I did so, thoughts of our previous meetings - my previous behaviour if you will – could afford me little satisfaction. I began to see my behaviour through your eyes – I compared your civility and kindness ddespite my aunt's manner and when dealing with Bingley's sisters who showed little but the coldest civility to you – and often not even that in your absence – and such comparisons were greatly in your favour. I could not view my own behaviour other than with abhorrence."

He looked at her closely. "I had many hours to reflect - my aunt's company is not all that engaging - and I began to review my behaviour towards you. Your words that first evening at Rosings, I could not forget. 'to my certain knowledge more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner'. You heard, did you not, those most ungentlemanly words I spoke to Bingley?" At her assenting nod, he grimaced, "If I had only known. I would have tendered my apologies sooner. I will make no excuses. I was in a most foul mood; Bingley was pressing me greatly and I truly do not enjoy dancing unless I know my partner very well. Nonetheless, such words should never be uttered in such a setting and I am heartedly ashamed to have insulted one who, within a very short time, I had come to believe as one of the handsomest of my acquaintance."

"You are indeed forgiven, Mr. Darcy. I had done so some days previously when I realized that your opinion had changed greatly."

"You are too kind, Miss Bennet."

"No indeed I am not! I may well tease you in the future about it."

Elizabeth suddenly realized that she had inadvertently let slip the possibility of a 'future' with Mr. Darcy and could see that the gentleman had not failed to appreciate the import of her words. He did not, however, allow himself to be diverted as he responded, "As I have stated, I was afforded the opportunity to reflect on my behaviour and have come to realize that yours, throughout our acquaintance in Hertfordshire, was one of some antagonism to me. What I believed to be flirting - if you will - on your part was, in fact, an expression of your dislike and dissatisfaction with my manners, my behaviour. I am correct, am I not?"

Elizabeth was forced to assent and he waved off her attempt to explain, "You were fully justified in your censure. You did not like me and I had, by virtue of my own behaviour, given you little cause to do otherwise. My reflections here have caused me to realize that I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, although not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately, an only son (and for many years an only child), I was spoiled by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might still be if I had not met you again here."

"I do not understand. How could I have effected such a change?"

"By your actions with my aunt, you held before me such a mirror as to show me how grievously I had departed from my parent's teaching. If you can be honest with me about your family, then I cannot be less so with you about my own. My aunt, in my presence, was condescending, rude and presumptuous in the extreme. I spoke to my cousin Anne, who admitted that her mother had been even more uncivil during your previous visits. I have never been blind to my aunt's faults but, for the first time, was shown the contrast between her behaviour and that of a true lady. I was ashamed that I had not previously attached much importance to the fact, preferring to ignore rather than confront."

He paused for a few moments and said, "Perhaps if I had not come to…hold such affection for you, I might not have thought much on it. But I knew enough of your character to believe you deserved the greatest of civility and respect. And when I thought of my aunt's behaviour, I was forced to consider my own. As I contemplated my actions, my behaviour, I came to realize the hypocrisy that they represented. I could not scorn your connections with trade without considering that I had accepted as my closest friend, a man whose roots were steeped in trade. I could not disdain the improprieties of your younger sisters and your mother without weighing in the balance those of my own relations. My aunt's behaviour was no less improper and I can assure you that she has displayed it in a broader society than you experienced. I believe only her rank has spared her from general censure although I believe she is not generally welcome in London society."

He paused and facing her directly for the first time since he began to speak, knelt in front of her and took both her hands in his. Elizabeth was too perturbed by all he had related to act and listened as he said, "Miss Bennet, I most ardently admire and love you. I have, over the past months, come to the realization that you are the only woman who can satisfy my expectations for my wife. I admire, am entranced by your beauty, your intelligence and your kindness. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Elizabeth could see that his manner even while expressing such tender sentiments bore every sign of uncertainty that his offer would be accepted. That he had every reason to expect her to view his offer with favour, she knew; would not any other young lady of his station accept without any consideration other than the material advantageous that he provided? However from his declaration, she knew that he believed her to want more - or perhaps better - from her husband. His declaration had overset all of her plans and she found herself quite adrift.

"Mr. Darcy, I find myself in a state of considerable indecision." She glanced up at his face, which she could see an expression of great surprise, and then concentrating her eyes on their hands clasped in her lap and not giving him a chance to respond, continued quickly, "I can see I have surprised you. I can only hope that my explanation will satisfy your…concerns." Pausing once more to gather her composure – this was proving more difficult than she had expected – before saying, "The problem you see is that I simply do not, at this time, return your affections in equal measure to your own. In truth, I was unsure that you held me in any particular esteem until very lately - as your own reflections had surmised; for many months, I was convinced that you held me in the utmost disapproval and disdain. I, to my shame, reciprocated such feelings and it was only the advice of someone I hold in the greatest esteem that forced me to reconsider my opinion. You can perhaps imagine how mortifying it was to realize that I had so completely misjudged you. That is not to say that my affections had become engaged but simply that much of my dislike was dissipated; but it was not until we met here that I began to see you in a more favourable light."

Now she paused to look directly at Darcy and forced herself to maintain that gaze despite a desire to inspect her hands once more. He once more seemed the haughty Mr. Darcy of her Hertfordshire acquaintance and her nerve almost failed her until she remembered her resolve to give him a full explanation. It was not done she knew, in situations like this, for proper young ladies to be so bold and direct but she knew of no other way to convince him of her sincerity.

"I will not deny, Mr. Darcy, that I had suspected that you might make such an offer today and have accordingly spent no little time considering my response." She gave him a brief smile, "I will confess to you, sir, that had you asked me before you left Hertfordshire, my answer would have been decidedly negative. The mode of your declaration has completely overset all my expectations and I find myself very much lost. I am not insensible to the honour of your offer and, if I were convinced that I could make you happy and that you could do the same for me, I would accept it most gladly. The problem, Mr. Darcy, is that I do not know you."

She shook her head at the look of amazement and disbelief that crossed his face, "Mr. Darcy, how could I come to know you when our acquaintance has, for the most part, consisted of several walks over the past fortnight and a few brief words when you call or when I visit Rosings. I will say that I no longer hold you in extreme dislike and have come to regard you much more favourably and your declaration has done nothing but raise you in my esteem. When I came here today I intended to express my concern that your affections, your love might not long survive our marriage. That disdain you have admitted for my family - and that which you so clearly displayed for all of my neighbours whilst in Hertfordshire - and the contempt in which my connections are held, led me to question whether such affection as you held would long survive my exposure to your society and yours to mine. I have before me, in my own family, an example of a marriage where one partner holds the other in little respect and, in behaviour, displays it to the children of the union. In such a situation I would not be as insensible to such disparagement as my mother. I could not live in such a marriage lacking the respect of my husband. You must forgive my candour, sir. I would not – should not - speak so of my parents and only the need to make my feelings understood have led me to do so."

After the briefest of pauses, she continued, "However, your declaration has convinced me that my fears may have no merit; and, if you are content to allow my affections to grow – as I believe they will – to match your own, then I would most gladly wish to become your wife."

At this Elizabeth fell silent. She must await Mr. Darcy's response. It was not long in coming. The happiness which her reply produced was such as he probably had never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be expected to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eyes, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but though she could not look, she could listen; and he told her of feelings which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

Finally, the urge to move, to walk was realized by both and arm-in-arm they walked on without knowing in what direction except that it put Rosings behind them. With the horse trailing placidly behind, they walked and talked more freely than ever before. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She soon felt that if she did not, in full measure, return his affection, that it would not be long for such a happy event to occur.

They both fell silent at one point and Elizabeth noted a rather stern cast to his features and enquired of him for the cause. He took a few minutes to reply and she found his words heartening.

"Miss Bennet – Elizabeth – I was but thinking of your concerns that my affections might not survive your introduction to society as my wife. I wish to give you some assurances now; first, you will be accepted by all my relatives – with the exception of Lady Catherine – if not joyfully, at least civilly since they have no choice – I will not tolerate any disrespect to you. I am my own man and they have no control over me. They will honour and accept my choice of wife or we will have nothing to do with them. As for my friends, I have no doubt that you will charm them and that they will accept you willingly. As I said, I will tolerate no disrespect to you. I can only promise you, I will never repine my choice of a wife as I hope you never have cause to repine your decision to accept me."

Elizabeth, knowing that his honour had been engaged on her behalf, could not doubt the faithfulness of such assurances and found that she had stopped to gaze up at him. Placing a hand on his chest – and astounded at her forwardness – she could only say, "Thank You, Mr. Darcy."

""Elizabeth,do you think - when we are alone – that you could call me 'William'?"

Elizabeth savoured the name to herself before smiling, "I think I would like to do so,….William."

Before she realized what happened she felt his lips pressing down on hers, his hands encompassing her face as the kiss deepened. She felt her surprise disappear and her pleasure increase and – without any knowledge of doing so found that her own arms had encircled him to bring him closer. It was with a wrench that she was released and her face brought to rest against his chest. His breathing was heavier than she had ever heard and she could feel herself breathing more rapidly as well. His voice was almost a rumble as he spoke, "I will not apologize, Elizabeth. I have wished to kiss you for months. I will apologize for not asking permission first."

Her breathing still lacking control, she replied, "I am not of a mind to seek any apology for something I enjoyed so thoroughly,…William."

They separated to allow themselves to regain their composure and, as though of one mind, they found, on examining their watches, that it was time to return. Their conversation as they did so was, due to the imminent departure of Darcy, perforce to deal with several practical problems. The first was to obtain Mr. Bennet's consent and here Elizabeth had to admit that he, along with most of Meryton, had a poor opinion of Darcy which would make that gentleman's task more difficult. To this end Elizabeth thought it best to pen a letter to her father explaining her reasons for accepting the marriage offer. Her request that the engagement be kept secret until she returned to Longbourn and could inform her mother herself was harder for Darcy to accept but realizing that Elizabeth would remain in Hunsford for another week and that such news could reach Lady Catherine before she left, compelled him to agree. Any public announcement, including informing his aunt, of the engagement would await Elizabeth's return to Longbourn.

The matter of the wedding itself, Elizabeth was content to leave in Darcy's hands although she admitted to a preference of a short period as she ruefully stated, "My mother will most assuredly want at least three months to plan the most elaborate and expensive wedding as befits a man of your stature. I doubt I could retain my sanity were the period more than half that long." After much discussion a date of June 1 was agreeable to both although Darcy acknowledged a desire for an even shorter engagement period.

The final matter to be decided was Elizabeth's removal to Hertfordshire and here Darcy was adamant that she would return in his carriage, accompanied by himself and a maid for propriety, which would be sent the day she was to leave. On this he refused to be swayed and Elizabeth was forced to yield despite knowing it would be a most public announcement of their engagement.

They separated before coming in view of the parsonage and she continued inside to make her apologies for being so delinquent as to forget how much time had passed. Her primary concern was to pen a letter to her father and to this purpose retired to her room directly after luncheon.

The two gentlemen from Rosings called later that afternoon to take their leave and Darcy, enquiring of Mrs. Collins and Elizabeth, if they had correspondence which they might wish to have carried to London to be posted, received from Elizabeth her letter to her father and from Charlotte, a request that they stop at the parsonage the next morning as they left, to carry one to her parents. This was agreeable to the gentlemen and on that happy note, took their leave.


	5. Chapter 5

The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning; and Mr. Collins having been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was able to bring home the pleasing intelligence of their appearing in very good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then hastened to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his return brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her ladyship, importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of having them all to dine with her.

Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting that, had she chosen it, she might, by this time, have been presented to her as her future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what her ladyship's indignation would have been. "What would she have said? How would she have behaved?" were questions with which she amused herself. That the response would be unfavourable, she had little doubt and she could not be sorry for the discretion to avoid and spare herself and the Collinses the discomfort of such attentions, where it served no purpose to suffer them. If her engagement had been made known, she was certain that her presence would have been equally distasteful to Lady Catherine and to her cousin, and her continued stay at the parsonage very much in doubt.

Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party. "I assure you, I feel it exceedingly," said Lady Catherine; "I believe nobody feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly attached to these young men; and know them to be so much attached to me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy seemed to feel it most acutely, more, I think, than last year. His attachment to Rosings certainly increases."

Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter. Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Bennet seemed out of spirits; and immediately accounting for it herself, by supposing that she did not like to go home again so soon, she added, "But, if that is the case, you must write to your mother to beg that you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your company, I am sure."

"I am much obliged to your ladyship for your kind invitation," replied Elizabeth, "but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town next Saturday."

"Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly spare you for another fortnight."

"But my father cannot. He wrote last week to hurry my return."

"Oh! Your father of course may spare you, if your mother can. Daughters are never of so much consequence to a father. And, if you will stay another month complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as far as London, for I am going there early in June, for a week; and as Dawson does not object to the Barouche box, there will be very good room for one of you and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large."

"You are all kindness, Madam; but I believe I must abide by our original plan; however, I see no reason why Maria should not avail herself of your generous offer." Elizabeth had just realized that Maria's company on their return to Hertfordshire with Darcy would severely inhibit conversation and, if Maria could be persuaded to stay at the parsonage for an extra fortnight, she would be able to more easily enjoy the ride with her betrothed.

Maria was applied to and, with very little persuasion, was agreeable to remaining for another fortnight. Elizabeth did not fail to notice that Charlotte had been surprised at her suggestion and had favoured her with more than one sharp look during the ensuing discussion but had, nevertheless, ably supported an extension of her sister's visit. Lady Catherine seemed resigned to the loss of Elizabeth's presence but her desire to be of service was soothed by the knowledge that Mrs. Collins' sister would remain behind. "Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant with Miss Bennet. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea of a young woman travelling post by herself. It is highly improper. You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her having two men servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those things. You must send John with Miss Bennet, Mrs. Collins. I am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be discreditable to you to let her go alone."

"My uncle is to send a servant for me."

"Oh! - Your uncle! - He keeps a man-servant, does he? I am very glad you have somebody who thinks of those things. Where shall you change horses? - Oh! Bromley, of course. - If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be attended to."

Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting her journey, and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her, for, with a mind so occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be reserved for solitary hours. When they at last returned to the parsonage, she had not long been removed to her room when she was visited by Charlotte, who wasted no time questioning her friend's reasons for encouraging the extension of Maria's visit.

"It is certainly not that I object to her company, as you well know. You both have been most welcome but I must wonder at your reason for proposing it?"

Elizabeth tried to disclaim any reason other than a concern for her friend's comfort and happiness but Charlotte would have none of it.

"It will not do, Lizzy. It will not do!"

It was clear to Elizabeth that her attempt to deflect her friend had added weight to her supposition that Elizabeth had an ulterior motive and, Charlotte's remembrances quickly gave a direction to the cause.

"This has to do with Mr. Darcy, does it not? What…?"

Elizabeth interrupted to say, "Please. Do not importune me further on this matter. I cannot satisfy your curiosity and I believe you would not wish me to do so. All will become clear after I leave and all will, I believe, be well."

With this Charlotte was, after a silence lasting several minutes, forced to be content and, if during the remainder of Elizabeth's stay, she allowed her gaze to rest on her friend with a rather wondering look, she refrained from further comment.

Whenever Elizabeth was alone, she gave way to it as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of pleasant recollections. Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of her stay as they had been at first. Two days before she was to leave she received a very thick letter from Jane which, after retiring to her room for privacy, and upon being opened was found to contain, in addition to that from Jane herself, a letter from her father and one from Darcy. Unsure which to read first, she chose to read that from her father.

 _Longbourn_

 _Hertfordshire_

 _My dear child,_

 _I hardly know what to express in this letter. I am sure you can appreciate my surprise when Mr. Darcy sought an interview with me. That he had asked for your hand in marriage and you had consented must rank with the most unexpected of events. My immediate thought, to be sure, was whether you had taken leave of your senses or had been overwhelmed by the gentleman's wealth and position._

 _Do not be alarmed. I have given my consent and truly I do not think I could refuse a man of such consequence. I was, I admit, most comforted by your letter although I had to read it a second time to begin to grasp the change in your feelings for him. I rather thought that you disliked his manners and attitude even as you respected his character. That you allowed yourself to understand him and to appreciate him speaks well, I believe, for your future together. I do not pretend to know him well, although he was courteous enough to remain for more than an hour to converse with me. I think I could come to like him quite well although he is deficient in that foolishness which I had thought a most desirable trait in a son. Unfortunately, he is too intelligent to miss my attempts to make sport of him - but appears good-humoured enough to not take offence - and quick enough to take a bit of sport with me._

 _I am pleased for you, Lizzy. I do not think I could lose you to anyone less worthy. I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. That you have professed to esteem and respect Mr. Darcy, is of great satisfaction to me. If, as you have confessed, your esteem does not match his at the moment, the thoughts expressed in your letter lead me to believe that any inequality in affection that may currently exist will be of a short duration._

 _You will be relieved to know that your betrothal has yet to be made known to your mother; that pleasure I would prefer to allow you on your return; however, the prospect of her reaction at the time of your return does not bear thinking on. I will undertake that task myself – although you may be assured it will be left to the very day you shall arrive and no sooner. That the happy event of your return will soon follow upon this letter, will be no little comfort since there have been not two words of sense spoken here since you and Jane departed._

 _Your loving father_

Her pleasure at her father's support and approval – she knew he must have suffered some disquiet over the thought of losing his most favourite daughter – drew forth a few tears. That he had read her letter and accepted her reasoning – despite his possible reservations – spoke well, she thought, for the conversation that had taken place between her father and her betrothed, who must have made an effort to address and alleviate them. Satisfied with her father's support, she could no longer refrain from opening the letter from Darcy.

 _Pemberley House_

 _Curzon Street, London_

 _My dearest Elizabeth,_

 _You can have no idea how much it pleases me to be able to call you such. I have met with and obtained your father's consent and blessing, as I am sure his letter will confirm. It was a most interesting interview and one that may well have been more uncomfortable had it not been for the letter you so thoughtfully provided. Your father read it twice; I believe the second time more slowly and carefully than the first. His mien when he had finished was considerably relieved – I cannot say happier because I could see that he did not wish to lose you to another, a feeling I am quite able to comprehend._

 _I made every effort to assure him of my affections and respect for you and, to alleviate his concerns, spoke of our meetings. That there was an inequality of affection I admitted but that I had been assured of both your esteem and respect and these, I firmly believe, will form a basis for a most felicitous marriage._

 _We conversed for over an hour and, at the end, I had come to appreciate your father's wit and intelligence and, as well, the source of your own. I will not pretend, however, to understand your father fully. An hour or so is not sufficient to that purpose, but I propose to spend most of our engagement period in Hertfordshire and look forward to spending such time as I am not in your company, in his to my benefit._

 _I will add that I visited your sister, Miss Bennet, at Gracechurch Street and was most pleased to meet your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. They invited Georgiana and me to dine, once informed of our engagement. I like them both very well indeed and look forward to improving our acquaintance. My sister was most happy to meet your sister and aunt and they both made her more comfortable in company than I had ever previously seen, apart from family. Of course, they will become part of her family and that is a happy thought for us both. Georgiana is most desirous of making your acquaintance and, to that end, has insisted that she accompany me when I travel to Rosings to bring you home. I was not inclined to disoblige her and you will therefore be introduced when I arrive. We are both of us looking forward to that happy event. I have found that I miss your company exceedingly and can hardly wait to see you once more._

 _Some news of a practical nature must be imparted. First, I have apprised Bingley of my error in respect of your sister's affections and also of my actions in regard to concealing her visit to London. He was exceedingly angry with me and even more so with his sisters. I have been forgiven but I cannot speak to his relations with his sisters. I will reveal that he has visited Gracechurch Street, but more than that I will leave to your sister to confess._

 _We shall stop overnight at the Gardiners before travelling to Longbourn the next day. Bingley will accompany us – including your sister – and Georgiana and I will reside at Netherfield at Bingley's request._

 _There is much more to discuss which I will reserve for our trip back from Rosings. These days until we meet again will pass with interminable slowness. To have to be separated from you so soon after you gifted me with your hand, has made the lack of it in my own almost unbearable. I find I miss you greatly._

 _With all my love,_

 _William_

Elizabeth was not satisfied with but a single reading of this letter but must read it several times in order to extract all possible meaning and pleasure from it. That her father and betrothed were able to meet on an amiable basis was immensely satisfying. Despite his faults, she loved her father dearly and could not wish for more than that he and Darcy were comfortable in each other's company. That Darcy had met and enjoyed the company of her aunt and uncle Gardiner, to the extent of dining with them, was both gratifying and surprising. That he had done so on his own initiative spoke well for the durability of the changes in his manner that he had effected. Finally, when considering that his sister was to accompany her on the return to Town, she was glad to have persuaded Maria to remain in Hunsford. A carriage ride of some four hours should provide a good opportunity to start developing an acquaintance with one who was to become as a sister to her. 'I find I miss you greatly' Elizabeth's thoughts kept returning to those words and knew that they had awakened an echo in her. She had come to rely on his company as well and his absence had lowered her own spirits. With a sigh, she turned to her sister's letter.

 _Gracechurch Street_

 _London_

 _Dearest Lizzy,_

 _We have much to speak on when you arrive in London and, be warned now, that I will have it all. Not one morsel shall you conceal from me and not a moment's sleep until you have done so. To be engaged to Mr. Darcy! You have scarce mentioned his name in your letters. Our aunt and I agree, you have been most sly! If you have come to love him – and I never thought poorly of him, as you know – then I will only say that I am most happy for you. Have I said I like him very much? If he loves you, he must be a good man._

 _I m sure that Mr. Darcy has told you all – I assume you read his letter first or at least I hope you did – and hence that Mr. Bingley has called us. You cannot imagine my surprise or my distress upon seeing him again today. He stayed but a quarter hour and asked to call again which he will do tomorrow. Now that this meeting is over, I feel perfectly easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by his coming. I am glad he dines here tomorrow. It will then be publicly seen that, on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent acquaintance. I cannot think myself so weak as to be in danger now._

 _I can almost hear you laugh and tease me, Lizzy but I speak the simple truth. Although he remains the most amiable man of my acquaintance, I cannot allow myself to hope for more. One thing he did mention to my aunt caused me considerable surprise. Apparently his sisters did not inform him of my presence in Town these last months. He learned of it from Mr. Darcy but yesterday and would, he told my aunt, have called sooner had he known._

 _There must be some great misunderstanding here, Lizzy because I am certain that Miss Bingley gave me to believe that she had told him of my presence. I cannot understand why she would do so unless my suspicions of duplicity on her part are justified. If so, I am most sorry for her._

 _I will not try to speak of more in this letter. You will be joining me in a matter of days and we will have many opportunities to discuss all that has happened. Please give my regards to Charlotte. I hope that all is well with her._

 _Your most impatient and curious sister,_

 _Jane_

That Darcy would speak to Bingley she had never doubted; but whether that gentleman would wish to see Jane once more had been cause for some concern, and she had never expected that he would visit so quickly. From the speed with which he responded, and knowing her sister's heart, she now had every hope that the attraction between them would develop in the most felicitous manner. Her sister might try to dissemble, but her heart on this had never been closed to Elizabeth and she was in no doubt that her sister would be engaged in a matter of a week or two.

The very last evening was spent at Rosings; and her Ladyship again enquired minutely into the particulars of her journey, gave directions as to the best method of packing, and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right way, that Elizabeth almost thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh.

When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished her a good journey, and invited her to come to Hunsford again next year; and Miss De Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her hand to her.

On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins met for breakfast, a few minutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity of paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary.

"I know not, Miss Elizabeth," said he, "whether Mrs. Collins has yet expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us, but I am very certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for it. The favour of your company has been much felt, I assure you. We know how little there is to tempt anyone to our humble abode. Our plain manner of living, our small rooms, and few domestics, and the little we see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension, and that we have done everything in our power to prevent your spending your time unpleasantly."

Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She had spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with Charlotte, and the kind attentions she had received, must make her feel the obliged. Of her engagement she could say nothing, but that it alone made the visit exceptionably pleasant added warmth to her expressions of gratitude to Mr. Collins.

Mr. Collins was gratified; and with a more smiling solemnity replied, "It gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that you have passed your time not disagreeably. We have certainly done our best; and most fortunately having it in our power to introduce you to very superior society, and, from our connection with Rosings, the frequent means of varying the humble home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that your Hunsford visit cannot have been entirely irksome. Our situation with regard to Lady Catherine's family is indeed the sort of extraordinary advantage and blessing which few can boast. You see on what a footing we are. You see how continually we are engaged there. In truth, I must acknowledge that, with all the disadvantages of this humble parsonage, I should not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion while they are sharers of our intimacy at Rosings."

Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he was obliged to walk about the room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility and truth in a few short sentences. "You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself, at least, that you will be able to do so. Lady Catherine's great attentions to Mrs. Collins you have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear that your friend has drawn an unfortunate - ; but on this point it will be as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each other."

Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was the case, and with equal sincerity could add that she firmly believed and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to have the recital of them interrupted by the entrance of the lady from whom they sprung. Poor Charlotte! - it was melancholy to leave her to such society! - But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.

At length the coach arrived and, if Elizabeth had been less focused on the gentleman who stepped out, she might well have marvelled at it. But indeed her eyes and thoughts had but a single interest and she could hardly account for the surge of pleasure she felt upon seeing him smile at her. Most observers might be forgiven for having missed it altogether since it was confined to a slight curve of his lips and a softening of his eyes but in the past weeks she had come to know it well. A soft murmur from inside the coach reclaimed his attention and a tinge of blush was the only sign of discomfit as he turned to assist a young lady to descend.

Elizabeth walked towards them, eager for the formidable introduction to take place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see that her new acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. From Wickham she had been told that Miss Darcy was much like her brother – proud, very proud – and while she was not inclined to believe much of what he had said, she could not escape the thought that in this respect he might not have been wrong. The observation of but only a few minutes convinced her that Miss Darcy was only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from her beyond a monosyllable.

Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and though little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother, but there was sense and good-humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much relieved by discerning such different feelings. Elizabeth turned to Darcy saying, in a teasing manner, "I believe, sir, I am much in your debt. You have gifted me with a delightful sister."

After she spoke, she heard a gasp behind her and turned to see Charlotte looking at her with a wondering eye. A brief nod from Elizabeth was all it took to satisfy that lady's suspicions, but the reaction of her husband was altogether different as he reddened and prepared to speak.

"Cousin Elizabeth, how dare you to …"

Mr. Darcy's rather crisp tone interrupted the flow of words before it could properly get underway, "Mr. Collins. I thank you for your care of my betrothed. I will relieve you of all further responsibility and will be taking Miss Bennet with me back to Longbourn." He paused and looked quite sternly at Mr. Collins, "I am sure you wish to express your congratulations to your cousin on our engagement!"

Mr. Collins seemed bereft of the ability to form a comprehensible sentence and, it was clear to all – except perhaps Maria –, that thoughts of his patroness's extreme displeasure, his cousin's impropriety in aspiring to rise above her station, perhaps even a sense of injustice that a woman who had the effrontery to refuse his proposal could, by some means that he could not fathom, have been offered and accepted an offer of marriage that was so materially superior to his own. Fortunately for them all, his wife, sensible to the implications of her friend's engagement, had drawn him aside to talk quietly and forcibly with him. A firm hand on his arm seemed sufficient to prevent his departure for Rosings, a trip he seemed to wish to make if his frequent looks in that direction were indicative of his intentions. Elizabeth thought she heard her friend murmur 'cousin' with extra emphasis although she did not detect any appreciable change in Mr. Collins' demeanour.

As Darcy, Elizabeth and Miss Darcy conversed quietly together – keeping a wary eye on the Collinses – footmen were loading and lashing Elizabeth's baggage to the coach. That done, the Darcys and Elizabeth took their leave; Elizabeth, whispering her intention to write and inform her friend of all that had taken place and, although receiving congratulations from Charlotte, was unsurprised at her cousin's curt bow and silence on the matter. The omission of any sign of approval was not unexpected; nor was she disturbed by the lack, although the thought that her friend would bear the brunt of displeasure from her cousin and Lady Catherine could not fail to cause some unhappiness.

As she stepped into the coach, she realized that never, in her brief existence, had she seen a finer coach, let alone travel in one. To say it was large was to do it little justice; it could apparently seat six with much ease; was strongly built and well-sprung with an eye to comfort and security. The windows had glass panes to reduce the discomfort of dust and the exterior was not ostentatious, being a glossy ebony, despite a patina of dust, and sporting a small discrete family crest on the door. Having traveled in Lady Catherine's coaches, she could not but hope that the differences between the Darcy and de Bourgh coaches would be reflected in the Darcy homes.

The warmth of Darcy's hand as he assisted her to enter, caused her a frisson of pleasure as she took a seat and her decision to sit beside Miss Darcy was to allow her to further the acquaintance as they travelled to London. Once Darcy had entered, the coach lurched off and, to Elizabeth's surprise, not towards London but Rosings instead. Darcy, noticing her surprise, quickly spoke to allay her concerns, "I must inform my aunt of our engagement and, while I could write from London, I prefer to face her directly." At Elizabeth's quizzical look, he grimaced, "I can predict her displeasure with ease in either event but would not preclude her visiting London to express it should I inform her by letter." A gentle snort came from the young lady beside her, caused both Darcy and Elizabeth to grin and Darcy to continue, "Yes, well... as I said, I fear I must face her in either event, and felt it best to do so while I am now here. If I don't, she will learn of it from Mr. Collins and that is not acceptable."

Elizabeth nodded, "I had not thought of that aspect. Poor Charlotte. I fear her life will be … uncomfortable for some time."

By this time, they had drawn up to the front of Rosings and Darcy wasted no time seeking entrance o the house. Once he had left, Elizabeth directed her attention to Miss Darcy and gently began to draw her out. It was not an easy process but by the time that Darcy rejoined them, they had progressed to calling the other by their given names and had found several topics of interest including music, Pemberley and Mr. Darcy himself. Elizabeth's desire to know her future husband better made her receptive, even eager, to hear stories about him and that appeared to be a subject on which Miss Darcy was prepared to expound.

Elizabeth realized that Darcy must have been gone over a quarter hour and was beginning to wonder at the extent of his aunt's displeasure when he abruptly exited the house and threw himself into the carriage, pounding the roof to signal their departure. His anger was palatable on both countenance and body, and both young ladies shared a brief look before studiously ignoring his presence for some five minutes or so. Finally, sensing that his mood had lasted a sufficient time, Elizabeth leaned forward and, ignoring propriety, placed her hand on his resting on his leg and teased, "A visit rendered pleasurable only by its brevity, I gather."

Darcy jerked at her touch and her words failed to register at first and then one of his brief smiles emerged as he turned his eyes from the window to Elizabeth's face. "Indeed. My aunt outdid herself today. I will not offend you by a recital of her expressions of displeasure against you and me. It is sufficient to say that I have informed her that all contact between us is severed until she is willing to accept you as my wife with respect and civility."

Elizabeth could not be happy to have caused a breach in his family but her concerns were, not dismissed exactly, but allayed by Darcy. "Elizabeth, do not concern yourself unduly. She would have been unhappy and probably just as abusive of any choice I made that was not my cousin Anne who, I might add, has never expressed a desire for a union between us and who is, as I am sure you have realized, quite ill-suited to the role you will fill."

Elizabeth was about to withdraw her hand and sit back but her efforts were thwarted by Darcy's reluctance to release her hand. Keeping a firm hold, ignoring her blush - or perhaps appreciating, if the look on his face that Elizabeth detected was an indication – and looking rather sternly at her, said, "I have a…request to make of you. My aunt's words were quite intemperate and I doubt that her abuse will have ceased. That she may write to you directly in the most abusive terms, I doubt not. My request is simple. Please do not read any letter from her but destroy it, or better: give it to me unopened. She is my aunt and my responsibility to deal with."

"I am not afraid of your aunt, Mr. Darcy."

"I know that, but I would not have you bear her insults, if I can prevent it."

Elizabeth was thoughtful as she considered his request. That it was a request and not a demand was, she thought, a good portent for the future; and, since it was not an issue that bothered her greatly, she was willing to agree to it and did so. With an obvious sense of relief, he released her hand, allowing her to sit back once more.

On the subject of his Aunt Catherine, Darcy was unwilling to converse further and was easily induced to speak of his activities of the past week, which he did with great enthusiasm. Of his meeting with Mr. Bennet, he had little to say and Elizabeth finally realized that he would prefer to talk on that subject without his sister being present. On his meeting with Mrs. Bennet, he only commented that, "Your mother and I talked but briefly - as I waited to speak to your father. She was obviously quite curious as to my reasons for calling and I gave her to understand that I was only passing through and wished to speak on business with your father." He smiled, "If she believed it to involve Bingley, I was, unfortunately, not able, at that time, to satisfy her curiosity."

"When did you speak to Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth was curious but not overly concerned.

"I sent him a note after I returned from Longbourn; he called that evening and we visited Gracechurch Street the next day."

Another topic, Elizabeth realized, that would have to be deferred until they could talk in private. "What are Mr. Bingley's plans or has he even discussed them as yet?"

"Oh yes! He has been quite enthusiastic. He has sent instructions for Netherfield to be opened and made ready for himself and Georgiana and myself. He will be journeying with us tomorrow."

"And Mr. Bingley's sisters? Are they not to accompany him?"

"I do not believe he has invited them. He is still quite…annoyed with them both."

Miss Darcy looked surprised at this revelation and looked as though she wished to learn more on the subject but subsided after a glance at her brother. Elizabeth saw no reason to dissemble on the issue and addressed her directly, "Georgiana, as it happened Mr. Bingley's sisters were not pleased at their brother's attention to my sister Jane when he stayed at Netherfield. They … acted to separate them when Mr. Bingley had cause to visit Town, which led him to sever the acquaintance with my sister. Their actions were quite … unkind. Mr. Bingley only recently learned of what had occurred and was understandably angered." Elizabeth paused – she did not know the nature of any relationship between Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley's sisters and was hesitant to express her own reservations about them. "I believe, knowing Mr. Bingley, that he will forgive them and all will be well."

Strangely, Miss Darcy did not appear overly perturbed at the discord in the Bingley family and simply nodded in acquiescence.

Darcy reclaimed their attention. "I must say that Bingley's attentions to your sister have not suffered from the passage of five months. He appears to be as absorbed in her as ever he was." Reading Elizabeth's raised eyebrow, he responded, "I would not expect too long a time to pass before he makes her an offer. I think he feels that he needs to ensure her forgiveness - her approval - before doing so."

"I am sure my sister will not expect him to suffer unduly."

"If her demeanour is any indication, he should have little doubt as to her affections." The glance that Darcy sent to Elizabeth acknowledged his mistaken judgement. "Even I, as deficient in such discernment, can perceive as much."

"I believe my sister may feel more comfortable in displaying her feelings in Gracechurch Street than at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy." Darcy nodded in understanding and then changed the topic once more.

"I informed my uncle, the Earl of _, of our engagement."

Elizabeth was not sure from his expression how this news had been received. She rather thought that, if the earl was much like his sister, it had not been welcomed and Darcy had been subject to another session of abuse.

"Should I anticipate that he also does not favour the match, Mr. Darcy? Does his opinion match that of your aunt?" Elizabeth could not altogether hide the concern she felt at the negative reaction of his family. It was not unexpected, but that fact did not lessen the discomfort attached to it.

"My uncle is much more sensible than my aunt. I will not deny that he had expectations of a more prestigious match, but he was not abusive to you at all. His concern, if I may be frank, was that I knew my own mind and that I had not been trapped or compromised into a marriage by a mercenary young woman. I believe he accepted the assurances which I tendered although it took, I admit, a full hour to persuade him to my way of thinking."

He smiled once more at Elizabeth, "His wife, the countess, was surprisingly not astonished by the news. I believe Richard must have said something to her when he returned. I suspect that both my aunt and uncle had begun to despair of my ever taking a wife, knowing as they did my dissatisfaction with those ladies I had encountered in society. They both warned me about Lady Catherine's reaction and it was, in fact, my uncle's suggestion that I speak to her immediately that I followed. So, to answer your question, they have assured me that that will receive you with interest and I have promised to bring you to London to meet them before we marry."

Elizabeth was not sure how she felt about that prospect and her feelings must have been evident as Miss Darcy offered, "I like my Aunt Ellen very much. She is very kind to me."

Elizabeth laughed, "I cannot imagine anyone being unkind to you, Georgiana. And I am sure that with you and your brother to support me, I will survive the introduction quite well."

Darcy spoke quietly, "Our aunt is much like our cousin - Richard – quite amiable in almost any company; not like myself, unfortunately."

"Then I shall have to ensure that you follow your Aunt Catherine's advice and practice. I am sure you will become a great proficient." Elizabeth teased.

A subdued chortle beside her and Darcy's amused look seemed to lighten the atmosphere considerably and the remainder of the journey passed very comfortably. After a short stop at _ to refresh themselves, they continued on to London arriving at Gracechurch Street by mid-afternoon. Their reception there was all that she had anticipated. Her young cousins welcomed her joyfully – a visit by Cousin Lizzy was always a source of pleasure and they were only dismayed that she would remain but a single night. To Elizabeth's surprise, the Darcys were also welcomed by her cousins and both appeared comfortable with the exuberance displayed. An invitation to dine that evening was extended to the Darcys who gratefully accepted and departed shortly thereafter to their home to refresh themselves, promising to return as soon as possible.

Elizabeth had no sooner bid them adieu when she was hustled upstairs to Jane's room by her sister and aunt who both expressed a determination to have the full story behind her engagement. Pleading fatigue and a need to rest and refresh herself, Elizabeth, recognizing that nothing short of a full confession - although, as she reminded herself, not all details need be imparted – would satisfy their curiosity (and in the case of Jane, concern), she assured them of a full recounting of events after their guests left that night.

The Darcys did return, accompanied by Mr. Bingley, and the evening passed enjoyably for all and Elizabeth took satisfaction in the obvious comfort and ease that the Darcys displayed in the company of her aunt and uncle. In particular, Darcy and her uncle engaged in a lengthy discussion of angling and the sport to be had in Derbyshire. She could not be certain but it seemed to her that plans were being laid for the Gardiners to visit Pemberley that summer, plans of which she knew nothing – not that she would ever object to such a visit; indeed, quite the reverse - were she to be asked for an opinion.

The Darcys did not prolong their stay after dinner was completed. The journey had obviously fatigued Miss Darcy and her brother, if reluctant to be separated from Elizabeth, recognized his sister's discomfort and called for his carriage. If he and Elizabeth stole a few minutes to converse while awaiting the carriage, the rest of the party were content to afford them the privacy. Elizabeth hoped that he could discern the fondness and pleasure she took in his presence as they stood quietly talking in the hall.

"William, thank you once more for everything and, if I have not said so before, I like your sister a great deal."

"I hope that means you like her brother a great deal also, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's assurances that she liked Miss Darcy's brother a very great deal indeed was rewarded by a swift, light kiss that both pleased and failed to satisfied either of them. Within moments, the arrival of the Darcy carriage signalled the return of strict propriety and, shortly thereafter, the Darcys departed, plans in place to meet after church services the next day in order to effect a return to Longbourn. Mr. Bingley, sensing perhaps a desire of the Gardiners and Jane to talk privately with Elizabeth, did not prolong his stay and departed soon after.

Elizabeth was allowed the briefest of respite after his departure before her relations demanded of her a full accounting of her stay in Hunsford and her engagement for, as Jane, noted, "When you left, Lizzie, your opinion of Mr. Darcy seemed to be to reflect a distinct dislike. Yet now …?"

"In cases like this, a good memory is insupportable. I am quite ashamed of my….let us be honest, my prejudices which were nourished by a wounded vanity. It was no less, I assure you."

"Yet now you esteem him enough to accept his offer of marriage?" queried her aunt.

Elizabeth realized she would have to reveal much of her reflections over the course of her stay as well as some information that she had learned. Darcy's involvement with persuading Bingley to not return to Netherfield was skirted; she could see no purpose in revealing it since Bingley was now paying his attentions to Jane. His role had always been surmised but revealing the predominance of those efforts would serve no useful purpose now. Everything else – excepting only Georgiana's treatment by Wickham – was revealed and commented upon. Elizabeth had the satisfaction, after finishing, of having her uncle congratulate her. "I am very pleased, Lizzie, that you approached this proposal with so much thought. You were, I believe, very sensible and I have little doubt that you will be happy in this match. While I have met Mr. Darcy only a few times, I have been most favourably impressed by him. He is perfectly well-behaved, polite and unassuming."

"There is something a little stately in him, to be sure," replied her aunt, "but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. Though some people may call him proud, I have seen nothing of it. He has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would not give an unfavourable idea of his heart. I like him very well indeed."

Elizabeth could see that Jane remained slightly troubled and suspected that some questions would remain unanswered until such time as they were secluded in the privacy of their room. She had some suspicions as to the cause of her sister's disquiet and hoped that she could allay her fears. Later, after changing into their bedclothes, the two sisters settled themselves comfortably on Jane's bed, eager to discuss the more intimate details of those events that had taken place since last they had met. Elizabeth, despite Jane's pleadings, insisted that her sister tell all that had happened with respect to Bingley.

"Truthfully, there is not yet much to tell, Lizzy. He has visited several times, apologized for his sister's behaviour – which I assured him I did not hold to his account. How could I? And he mentioned his plans to re-open Netherfield. But he has said little of his feelings."

"Well, if I am to be a judge, I think he likes you quite as much as ever he did."

"Lizzy, you must not say so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. I assure you that I have now learned to enjoy his conversation as an agreeable and sensible young man without having a wish beyond it. I am perfectly satisfied, from what his manners now are, that he never had any design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed with greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally pleasing, than any other man."

"You are very cruel," said her sister, "you will not let me smile, and are provoking me to it, every moment."

"How hard it is in some cases to be believed! And how impossible in others! But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I acknowledge?"

"That is a question I hardly know how to answer. We all love to instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make me your confidante."

Jane was satisfied to escape further inquiry and teasing, and recollecting her concern about her sister's engagement, wondered how she might raise the matter. Elizabeth, though she suspected the source of her sister's discomfiture, was, at first, not disposed to begin the discussion but, after seeing her struggle for a minute or two, chose to broach it herself.

"It is easy to see that you are troubled, Jane; and, I believe I know the cause. We have always intended to marry only for love have we not?" Jane nodded. "And yet I have not claimed to love Mr. Darcy. Indeed some months back, I rather disliked him. You are worried that I have entered the engagement for improper reasons, are you not?"

Jane hesitated, reluctant to be questioning her sister's motives. "I am, I admit, concerned. I would not have you in an unhappy marriage; and, I am concerned that you may have accepted Mr. Darcy's proposal in order that Mr. Bingley would call on me."

Elizabeth began to laugh quietly, "Let me assure you on both counts, my dearest Jane. I was quite convinced that Mr. Darcy would correct his…mistake in regards to Mr. Bingley before I accepted him. That he is an honourable man, I have come to recognize. So banish that thought from your mind."

She smiled at the relief apparent on her sister's countenance. "The other issue should concern you even less. It is true that I do not, I think, love Mr. Darcy. But then I hardly know for sure what my feelings are. I know I now like him - I like him a great deal, in fact. I respect him and believe him to be the best man of my acquaintance. I found that I miss his presence when we are apart – the past week has been almost intolerable." She giggled, "I do like to be kissed by him and could wish for it to happen again!"

Jane looked both shocked and slightly envious, "Lizzy! You did not?"

"Indeed, we did! And, I quite enjoyed it!"

"It does sound very much as if you are in love with him, Lizzy."

"I hardly know, as I said. I am not sure how I am supposed to feel and my feelings are so new as to leave me quite confused. I do know that I will be respected, loved and cared for; and, that my family will be looked after, which is no small consideration."

Elizabeth replied to Jane's querying look, saying, "He has not said as much, nor have I asked it of him; but I am convinced that, as a matter which would concern me, he would wish to be of assistance."

Elizabeth could see that if her sister retained any lingering concerns, they had been, for the most part, laid to rest. The remainder of their conversation, before sleep overtook them somewhat later than was perhaps sensible, took a while – but two sisters, separated for a prolonged period, have much to talk about that renders sleep unimportant.

The journey to Longbourn was amongst the most pleasing that Elizabeth had ever experienced; the company was amiable, the distance not overlong and the carriage, most commodious. With five passengers, all capable and desirous of being entertained, topics of conversation were not wanting and even brief moments of silence were uncommon. Their reception at Longbourn was much more restrained than Elizabeth had expected. Mrs. Bennet, apparently informed of her daughter's engagement, stood in such awe of her intended son-in-law, that she ventured not to speak to him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark her deference to his opinion. To Mr. Bingley, she showed no such reserve; and her attentions in that quarter, by their volume and duration, were such as to remove any doubt as to her pleasure in his return. That he had done so in company with Jane, only fixed more firmly in her mind the certainty of his attachment to her.

The Darcys and Mr. Bingley did not linger overlong at Longbourn; staying only long enough to accept an invitation to dine the next evening before removing to Netherfield to establish themselves there. At Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet had been compelled to refrain from inviting their neighbours to join the celebration of the family's good fortune only by the sternest of injunctions from her husband. "We will not impose on Mr. Darcy, or Mr. Bingley tonight Mrs. Bennet. We will, instead, enjoy and be satisfied with the company of our two eldest daughters whose good sense has been sorely missed for many months."

As a consequence, the evening passed in a lively manner. Mrs. Bennet rejoiced to see Jane in undiminished beauty and, after satisfying herself by receiving a full accounting of Mr. Bingley's attentions to her, was much engaged in collecting an account of the present fashions from her; and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennet say voluntarily to Elizabeth, "I am glad you are come back, Lizzy."

Elizabeth had not been many hours at home – indeed it was a major topic of conversation at dinner - , before she found that the removal of the _shire Militia to Brighton had given rise to a scheme, for which Lydia appeared to be the primary proponent. It was to have the Bennet family spend some months during the summer at that location. This scheme was under frequent discussion between her parents. Elizabeth saw directly that her father had not the smallest intention of yielding; but his answers were at the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though often disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last. Since Elizabeth was sure that her father had no intention of agreeing to any such plan, she gave it little further thought.

That evening, her mother finally managed to put thoughts of the possibility of a match between Mr. Bingley and Jane far enough away to direct her attentions to Elizabeth. As Mr. Bennet had related, she had sat silent for a full ten minutes upon receipt of the news that morning and had been, even for her, unusually incoherent when control had been returned to her powers of speech. Elizabeth was much relieved that Mr. Darcy had been spared that exhibition; he had been very civil in his manner towards her mother when they met, but an effusion of that intensity by her mother might well have caused a return of the more reserved and reticent Mr. Darcy. How Miss Darcy – Georgiana – would have reacted, she could only guess but Elizabeth was sure that it would have shocked and thoroughly overset her sensibilities. Now, however, her mother was pleased to share with her – no longer her least favoured daughter – all her joys at the match she had made; and, calling Elizabeth to her chambers as she prepared for sleep, could not bear to do other than give full expression of that pleasure.

"Good gracious! Lord bless me! Only think! Dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it! And is it really true! Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! how rich and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages you will have! I am so pleased - so happy. Such a charming man! - so handsome! so tall! - Oh, my dear Lizzy! pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything that is charming! A daughter married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! What will become of me. I shall go distracted."

This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself, soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room, her mother followed her.

"My dearest child," she cried, "I can think of nothing else! Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! 'Tis as good as a Lord! And a special license. You must and shall be married by a special license. But my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, that I may have it tomorrow."

This was a sad omen of what her mother's behaviour to the gentleman himself might be; and Elizabeth found that, though in the certain possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations' consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily remained in awe of her intended son-in-law and spared him her overt attentions. Such attentions as he did desire or opinions that he expressed were received with a deference that stood in marked distinction to her previous treatment of him, a circumstance of which only Mrs. Bennet was unaware.

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising every hour in his esteem.


	6. Chapter 6

There is a certain momentum, an inexorability if you will, in the events surrounding a wedding. Plans must be made, wedding clothes purchased and neighbours allowed to share in the good fortune of the families involved. Yet, in the midst of such pleasures, other events will transpire and, if not deflect, at least capture the attentions of those most intimately involved in the wedding preparations.

One such event took place a week or so after Mr. Bingley's return to Netherfield. Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet saw her most favoured daughter become engaged to a very deserving gentleman; for indeed, Mr. Bingley did shortly come to the point, aided beyond doubt by the machinations of Elizabeth and Darcy and accomplished without that loss of propriety which might have attended any effort by Mrs. Bennet. At Darcy's suggestion, the two couples set out together to walk to Oakham Mount and, since both Darcy and Elizabeth were the more accomplished walkers, a separation of no little distance was soon established. Being careful to remain within sight but too distant for any conversation to be overheard, the foremost couple were soon treated to the sight of Bingley on one knee in front of Miss Bennet. The subject of his application could not be doubted and its reception even less so, as he was soon seen to jump to his feet, embrace Miss Bennet and then swing her around in his arms. Her laughing delight could be heard from where they stood and they quickly closed the distance to extend their congratulations and share the joy being experienced.

Mr. Bennet's approval was sought but a short time later and, if he sported with Bingley for a few minutes, he did not withhold his blessing; not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till Bingley took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he turned to his daughter, and said, "Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman."

Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his goodness.

"You are a good girl;" he replied, "and I have great pleasure in thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income."

Elizabeth could rejoice with her sister in her happiness without envying her at all. Although quite liking Mr. Bingley, his character was lacking in that resolve and firmness which she had come to admire in Mr. Darcy. She could not believe that Mr. Darcy would have been dissuaded to walk away from her if placed in a situation similar to Mr. Bingley. In fact, he had withstood his aunt's importuning quite well. As she thought further, she remembered Mr. Bingley's dislike of confrontation and disagreement during her stay at Netherfield while nursing Jane. He had been obviously uncomfortable with those exchanges between herself and Mr. Darcy that had bordered on a pronounced disagreement and, in addition, had done little to curb his sisters' exhibition of poor manners while in Hertfordshire. She wondered at his ability to manage an estate if he was unwilling to deal with controversy and contentious issues. Perhaps her father had the right of it and they would be prey to all manner of cheats. It was not a happy thought or prospect. But neither was it a problem that she could affect at all.

Darcy and Elizabeth were all but forgotten by Mrs. Bennet. Jane was beyond competition her favourite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Jane's hopes to share her wedding with her sister were for nought, however, as Mrs. Bennet would not hear of the wedding being held with so little time to prepare. Three or fewer weeks were hardly sufficient time, in her opinion, to organize an appropriate celebration. Since Elizabeth was not to return from her honeymoon for four weeks after her own wedding, a date of July 1 was decided upon to the satisfaction of one and all. If Mrs. Bennet treated Jane's intended with more deference than Elizabeth's despite the disparity in their incomes, the pin-money they would have and the quality and number of their carriages, the cause was not difficult to discern. The proximity of Netherfield and the prospect of having a daughter wed and living nearby with whom she could visit whenever convenient was undoubtedly of material satisfaction and raised the value of Jane's attachment greatly.

The only person unhappy with the prospect of Jane's wedding was Lydia. The _shire Militia was to depart in a fortnight and the ensuing lamentations and complaints issuing from both Lydia and Kitty had not lessened to any noticeable degree. But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away; for she received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the Colonel of the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of their three months' acquaintance they had been intimate two.

The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone's congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish. In vain did Elizabeth attempt to reason with her, and Jane to make her resigned.

As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she considered it as the death-warrant of all possibility of common sense for the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her were it known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her go. She represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must be greater than at home. Seeing him reluctant to oppose the plan, Elizabeth and Jane then petitioned their mother as to the desirability of having Lydia present for both weddings. After some thought, persistent urging on the part of her two eldest daughters and the vocal support of their intended, Mrs. Bennet was persuaded to agree; however, she could see no reason not to allow Lydia to join her friend following Jane's wedding and with this her eldest daughters were forced to be satisfied. Elizabeth made one last effort to persuade her father to forbid the project but her pleadings had little effect upon him.

He heard her attentively, and then said, "Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so little expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present circumstances."

Elizabeth was not content with this response and disclaimed, "Our importance, our respectability in the world, must be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia's character. Excuse me - for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt that ever made herself and her family ridiculous. A flirt, too, in the worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person; and from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger Kitty is also comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads.—Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Oh! My dear father, can you suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the disgrace?"

Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the subject; and affectionately taking her hand, said in reply, "Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known, you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less advantage for having a couple of - or I may say, three - very silly sisters. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. Let her go then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importance, even as a common flirt, than she has been here. The officers will find women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being there may teach her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow many degrees worse without authorizing us to lock her up for the rest of her life."

With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her disposition.

As well, her own wedding was approaching and she would not allow herself to suffer a diminution of that pleasure. She was bound for London to purchase her wedding clothes under the guidance of her Aunt Gardiner – Mrs. Bennet being convinced to remain at Longbourn to organize the wedding celebration. This task took the best part of a week during which she found little time to spend with Darcy. The evening before her return to Longbourn, a meeting took place which, for much of the week, she had resolutely forbidden herself to contemplate. She and Darcy were to dine with the Earl and Countess of Matlock, Darcy's uncle and aunt. The earl was Lady Catherine's brother and, despite Darcy's reassurances, the prospect of possibly facing an even more intimidating version of that lady was not one to create much pleasure. In fact, however, appearances apart, the earl was in no wise comparable to her ladyship. His reserve was not unlike that of Darcy himself and, if he was uncertain as to the wisdom of his nephew's choice of a wife, it was not betrayed in any lack of civility. The countess was all that was amiable and it was clear the Colonel Fitzwilliam had derived both appearance and manners from her. If her comments were to be believed – and Elizabeth had no reason to think otherwise – she was not only prepared but delighted to assist Elizabeth's entry into society. If Elizabeth had little inclination herself to spend much time in such activities, she was aware that Georgiana would need her assistance and that of the countess when it came time for her to be introduced into society. The dinner could be considered a success. It was not long enough to establish a firm relationship with Darcy's uncle and aunt but it had passed smoothly enough to make a future meeting less fraught with anxiety. She rather thought that their first impression of her was favourable and she believed that she could come to like them quite well indeed. Certainly Darcy had had no qualms about the evening and was frequently heard to exclaim, on their return to Longbourn the next day, that Elizabeth had charmed them completely.

If her mother was unhappy with being allowed only several weeks to prepare a wedding celebration, it seemed only to spur her to greater efforts to organize as many events as possible to allow her neighbours numerous opportunities to appreciate in full the great benefits being accorded to the Bennet family. When Elizabeth was at Longbourn, dinner followed dinner as the principal families all decided to acknowledge Elizabeth's good fortune. Elizabeth's only concern was the discomfort of Darcy. That he was extremely uncomfortable in such surroundings, she well knew but he bore it with admirable calmness. He could even listen to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying away the brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their all meeting frequently at St. James's, with very decent composure. If he did shrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight. Mrs. Philips's vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater, tax on his forbearance; and though Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood in too much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's good humour encouraged, yet, whenever she did speak, she must be vulgar. Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all likely to make her more elegant.

Elizabeth did all she could to shield him from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep him to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might converse without mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arising from all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, it added to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight to the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing to either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at Pemberley. That Darcy and her father were slowly becoming both comfortable and pleased with the company of the other was a great satisfaction; and one day as she watched them playing a game of chess, such a feeling of happiness came over her that she could not bear to remain in the room and quickly exited the house into the nearest garden. She had not time to control her tears when she heard approaching footsteps and Darcy's voice enquiring as to the cause of her distress. Wiping her eyes, she quickly sought to embrace and murmured into his chest, "I am not distressed! Indeed I am not! I am happy!"

She could hear the confusion in his voice, "But you are crying?"

"Indeed I am happy. It was the sight of you and my father playing chess together that made me so. The sight of the two men I love most being so content in each other's company was…I don't know how to express it!"

"You love me!" Elizabeth could not miss the exultation mixed with uncertainty in Darcy's voice.

"Indeed I do, William! Most ardently!"

At this Elizabeth paused but, before she could continue, she found her lips otherwise engaged most delightfully and, she thought, rather ardently – the meaning of which she was coming to appreciate and understand more fully. The expressions of love that flowed from Darcy were a surprise to her and she realized that he had tempered his own effusions perhaps in deference to an unwillingness to overset her feelings. Now, it seemed, all restraints were loosed and it was only their proximity to the house that moderated his expressions of happiness.

In a calmer manner they prolonged their escape from the celebration inside and strolled around the garden. Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. "How could you begin?" said she. "I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?"

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

"My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners - my behaviour to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?"

"For the liveliness of your mind, I did."

"You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused, and interested you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. There - I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me - but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love."

"Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane while she was ill at Netherfield?"

"Dearest Jane! Who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may be."

Finally the wedding day arrived, vows were exchanged, the registry signed and Miss Elizabeth Bennet surrendered that name and became, to her great pleasure, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. The newly wedded couple stayed but an hour for the wedding breakfast and took their leave to honeymoon for nearly a month in Weymouth. I cannot divulge much of what transpired there other to say that Mrs. Darcy had no cause to repine in those marital intimacies which ensued and indeed the frequency with which she and Mr. Darcy enjoyed each other's company in the privacy of their bedchamber must stand as testimony to their mutual happiness.

Their return to Longbourn, a scant two days before her sister's wedding, was an occasion of great joy for Jane Bennet. The newly wedded couple had been offered and accepted the chance to stay at Netherfield and Jane had not needed more than an hour to determine that her sister was indeed most happily married. Neither Darcy nor Elizabeth were of a nature for public displays of affection but Jane could discern - in a host of small incidents: a frequency of small touches, a tendency to walk closely together, exchanges of lingering glances and a desire to retire early in the evening – that her sister and her husband were quite pleased with each other. One startling fact Jane was to discover was that her sister and her husband shared but a single bed and had done so from the very first night of their marriage – a fact which gave her pause for considerable thought.

Following the Bingley wedding, the Darcys removed to Pemberley and were joined a month later by the Bingleys who had travelled to visit for a month with his relatives in the north of England. The two happy couples had not enjoyed each other's company for more than a fortnight when an express from Mr. Bennet overset all their plans. Lydia, foolish Lydia, had been caught in a most compromising position with an officer in the _shire Militia. Fortunately the officer, Captain Carter, who was well known to them all, was prepared - perhaps one might even say, delighted – to act in an honourable manner and wed the young lady. The alacrity with which he signalled his intentions might have been cause for concern as to how much blame could actually be attached to Miss Lydia's role but his interest in her seemed genuine and no one doubted the necessity of their marrying. Indeed, given Lydia's behaviour, she could not, under the circumstances, have been wed to a more capable gentleman. The Darcys and Bingleys returned to Netherfield posthaste and it was but a matter of days for the details of a marriage settlement agreeable to Captain Carter were finalized. Contributions of 1,000 pounds from both Bingley and Darcy, a guarantee of 100 pounds per annum from Mr. Bennet, an equal share of her mother's portion upon the death of both her parents and the purchase of a Captaincy in the regulars for Captain Carter, was sufficient to settle the matter. That the captain had a modest income from a family bequest of about 4,000 pounds, in addition to his salary, would provide him, his wife and the subsequent children with a modest, but comfortable, life. Fortunately – or perhaps not, from Lydia's viewpoint – the captain was not inclined to allow his wife to waste their income on fripperies which they could ill afford.

The Carters were, for the first months of their marriage, settled in Essex; however, towards the end of the year, the captain's regiment was designated to travel to Canada to defend that country from its American neighbours. His wife was to accompany him, at his request, since his sojourn there was to be of no short duration. At the conclusion of that war, the captain resolved to remain in the country, adopting as his new home the port of Halifax. In this endeavour he was supported, albeit somewhat reluctantly, by his wife who rather wished to see her parents once more. In time she found that the less restrained lifestyle that could be lived in Halifax was much to her liking. While Captain Carter remained in the military, Mr. Gardiner, who hoped to expand his presence in the Americas, was convinced to begin employing him as his agent to their mutual benefit; and, in the course of time, the captain's effort proved so successful as to allow him to resign from the military and devote himself full-time to Mr. Gardiner's business.

The wedding of Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley was the pinnacle of Mrs. Bennet's happiness. With what delighted pride she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may be guessed. The marriage of the daughter she favoured above all others could not be the subject of excessive praise; although such satisfaction as she could realize was lessened considerably by that daughter being settled so far away as to preclude the possibility of visiting. I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though perhaps it was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and invariably silly.

Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for her drew him oftener from home than anything else could do. He delighted in going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected. Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to his easy temper, or her affectionate heart. The darling wish of his wife and sister was then gratified; he bought an estate in a neighbouring county to Derbyshire, and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other.

Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a temper as Lydia; and, removed from the influence of Lydia's example, she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid. Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being quite unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but she could still moralize over every morning visit; and as she was no longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters' beauty and her own, it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without much reluctance.

Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy's marriage; but as she thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she dropped all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility to Elizabeth.

Pemberley was now Georgiana's home; and the attachment of the sisters was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each other even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion in the world of Elizabeth; though at first she often listened with an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive, manner of talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen in her way. By Elizabeth's instructions, she began to comprehend that a woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will not always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself.

Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew; and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character in a letter which denounced its arrangement in language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth's persuasion, Darcy was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation. After a little farther resistance on the part of his aunt, her resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity to see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to wait on them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the visits of her uncle and aunt from the city. With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest pleasure in the company of those persons who, by the excellence of their manners and intelligence could not but bring credit to themselves and those connected to them.

It is not to be supposed that a couple, both of whom are possessed of strong opinions, lively tempers and a goodly measure of stubbornness, could hope to avoid arguments and disagreements; however, since both were also possessed of a very strong affection for the other and the ability to consider the other's viewpoint, such disagreements were rarely of a long duration. By Elizabeth's liveliness and happy nature, Darcy was enlivened while Elizabeth found her understanding improved by Darcy's experience and knowledge and, if she found, more frequently than she expected, that her opinion needed to be modified once exposed to his information, she could be satisfied that her husband was quite willing to defer to her judgement in those areas where she had proven her superiority.

Finis


End file.
